Colors of the Wind
by vampirealchemist13
Summary: During detention Malfoy goes too far and Hermione casts a spell; until he can learn what he truly is, how she truly sees him, he's doomed to hear her song in his head. The problem? He won't let her help. Can she point him in the right direction? DMHG
1. A Dead Thing You Can Claim

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Colors of the Wind from _Disney's _Pocahontas. All I own is the plotline, so don't sue!

Full Summary: During detention, Malfoy goes to far, and Hermione casts a spell. Now, until he can learn what he truly is, how she truly sees him, he's doomed to hear her song in his head. The problem? He won't let her help. Can she point him in the right direction before he goes insane?

Pairings:DracoxHermione/HermionexRon/RonxLuna/LunaxCedric/CedricxCho/ChoxHarry/HarryxGinny/GinnyxBlaise/BlaisexPansy/PansyxDraco (lots, aren't there?)

A/N: The events of books one through four _did_ happen, but Cedric, for obvious reasons, did not die. Voldemort is alive, though, and Harry won the TriWizard Tournament, not that it really matters for this story, but just in case you wanted to know.

* * *

_You Think You Own Whatever Land You Land On; The Earth Is Just A Dead Thing You Can Claim_

* * *

"Miss Granger! You now have a detention for helping your boyfriend correct a mistake he should have been able to catch on his own!" Snape's harsh voice came from the other end of the room, but his billowing robes brought him to stand at her cauldron by the time his order was given.

His beetle black eyes bore into Hermione's cinnamon brown ones as she attempted to stand defiantly and not cringe back from the greasy-haired git standing in front of her. The proud prefect refused to give in to him, to give him the satisfaction of breaking her spirit.

"You will be scrubbing the dungeon floors; seven o'clock. Do not be late." He swept away and she let out the breath she didn't even realize she had been holding in.

"Don't worry, Hermione. That git has just been waiting for an opportunity to get you," Harry patted his friend on the shoulder. "After all, he's already got Ron cleaning bedpans and me in the trophy room."

"Yeah, he's got it in for the golden trio 'cause he's never been anything but silver!" She smiled at her boyfriend of three months. They had gotten together at Harry's birthday that summer, but lately, he had been distant, like something else was on his mind.

School, she dismissed the thought as. However, something in the back of her mind told her that wasn't it.

That summer, many other couples had been formed. Draco Malfoy's best friend, Blaise Zabini, had broken up with some Luna Lovegood, an odd combination, and begun dating Ginny. Draco himself was dating Pansy Parkinson.

Luna Lovegood was now dating Cedric Diggory and her best friend, Cho Chang, was with her other best friend, Harry. Everyone was actually rather happy except for the part where the Gryffindor trio was forced to get along with the Slytherin's for Ginny's sake, though Harry had a harder time than most others. Hermione believed it was Ginny dating Blaise that drove him up a roof, but didn't say anything for fear of ruining his relationship with Cho.

All in all, though, the ten friends and enemies were pleasantly paired with another and were, more or less, happy.

At least, they should have been.

* * *

"Miss Granger, you know your duty. Please hand me your wand and get to it." At her protest of giving up the thirteen and a half inch piece of wood, he held up his hand and snapped that she could retrieve it when the dungeon floors were as clean as the day Hogwarts' was built.

She muttered under her breath about greasy potion masters as he swept out of the room, docking ten points when he heard her. The soapy bucket of water was charmed to keep full and cleanse the water so she wouldn't have to go anywhere. As she surveyed the room, she knew Harry and Ron would make it back to the Common Room for bed before she did; she'd be lucky to make curfew.

Eventually, she realized staring the bucket down would not make it disappear or, better yet, do the work for her, so she sighed and got on her hands and knees began scrubbing. After awhile, the work became easy, and her thoughts drifted to different subjects, school obviously coming first.

But then her thoughts drifted closer to home. She wondered if her parents were okay. Voldemort was back, and every day more and more muggles were in danger of being attacked by random death eater attacks. She remembered back to when she was a little girl, falling out of trees and never getting hurt, locking the door without touching it when she was angry with her parents…watching _Disney_ movies.

She rolled through a list in her mind of all the videos she watched as a child, laughing at some and crying when she thought of others. The song of one in particular came to the forefront of her mind and she began humming it. Then she was softly speaking. Then she was singing.

_You think you own whatever land you land on_

_The Earth is just a dead thing you can claim_

_But I know every rock and tree and creature_

_Has a life, has a spirit, has a name_

_You think the only people who are people_

_Are the people who look and think like you_

_But if you walk the footsteps of a stranger_

_You'll learn things you never knew you never knew_

_Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon?_

_Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grinned?_

_Can you sing with all the voices of the mountain?_

_Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?_

_Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?_

_Come run the hidden pine trails of the forest_

_Come taste the sun-sweet berries of the Earth_

_Come roll in all the riches all around you_

_And for once, never wonder what they're worth_

_The rainstorm and the river are my brother_

_The Haren and the otter are my friends_

_And we are all connected to each other_

_In a circle, in a hoop that never ends_

_Have you ever heard the wolf cry to the blue corn moon?_

_Or let the eagle tell you where he's been?_

_Can you sing with all the voices of the mountain?_

_Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?_

_Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?_

_How high does the sycamore grow?_

_If you cut it down then you'll never know_

_And you'll never hear the wolf cry to the blue corn moon_

_For whether we are white or copper-skinned_

_We need to sing with all the voices of the mountain_

_We need to paint with all the colors of the wind_

_You can own the Earth and still all you'll own is Earth until_

_You can paint with all the colors of wind_

"Hey, Mudblood, you can't _enjoy_ detention!" She was snapped from her small reminiscing to find a pale-haired blonde teen standing in the doorway, sneering at her. "Severus has asked me to oversee your detention, though I have much better things to do, his needs are more important, so get to it!"

"I never stopped until you got here, so if you would leave me alone, I would let you get back to your precious _Pansy!_" She spat the name, though she didn't know why. Truthfully, she shouldn't care one way or the other about Pansy besides the Slytherin fact, but that never stopped her from getting to know people, and it didn't stop Ginny; look at her boyfriend!

"Don't tell me what to do, Mudblood! That's my job!" He looked rather happy about the fact that he had complete control over her until she finished the floors, and as he brandished not one, but two wands from his robe sleeve, she realized she was completely and utterly screwed.

Reluctantly, she sighed and went back to cleaning the floors, already halfway done after only forty-five minutes. If she could do that without Malfoy, with him would take double the time to finish the last half, so she should be back at Gryffindor Tower by nine thirty!

Brightened by that thought, she began scrubbing harder, hoping to avoid any mess with Malfoy, but of course, it was not to be.

"So what song was your horrid Mudblood voice singing?"

"Not that I have any reason to tell you, but it was a song from a video I used to watch when I was growing up. Videos are muggle things, though, so I don't expect you to know what it is." He snorted.

"Just because I'm prejudiced doesn't mean I don't know about the race I'm against. I know the basics, like a television and a telephone and an automobile." He looked insulted at her amazed facial features. Apparently, she should have known he actually _knew_ what he was prejudiced against.

"Don't look so surprised; through all that, you're still a bunch of stupid Mudbloods." Then again, he was also still an ass, so that one redeeming quality could be overlooked so she could still see him as a completely biased idiot.

"I'm going to ignore you now, and hope you do the same for me. If not, I hope you enjoy one-sided conversations." With that, she went back to humming the tune under her breath and cleaning with only a fourth of the room to go.

"You can't just ignore me! I'm Draco Malfoy, and nobody ignores a Malfoy." She continued to do just that. Ten minutes later, just as she was a minute from finishing, he yelled "And would you stop singing that horrid tune! It's grating my nerves and I don't think I can stand much more of it!" She stood and faced him with an evil Granger glare.

"Lucky for you, Malfoy, I'm finished, now if you would hand me back my wand…" He didn't even have time to respond. The last time he had been fixed with that glare, he had found himself with a large shiner on his right eye from her beautiful right hook, not that he would tell her that. She grabbed her wand and stormed for the doorway.

Before she walked out, though, she turned to him, smirking. "Just because I'm done, doesn't mean my song is. I hope you enjoy this, Malfoy, because you're going to hear it until you figure out the meaning. _Escucha mi canción__!_" As she walked out, she ignored the fact that the pale teen was grasping his head like there was an oncoming headache.

There was something coming, but it was no headache. What was swarming his mind was not something that could be solved by a painkiller, because it was the lyrics to the song she had just sung. The words floated through, repeating themselves over and over in her lyrical voice until he thought he was going to go insane.

And the only one who could fix it had just walked from the dungeons into enemy territory.

Ten minutes later, the lyrics became softer, but did not subside. At least he could concentrate on other things. He would need to look this up later, because he highly doubted he could make it long with that stupid muggle song!

He grabbed his wand, moved the bucket to Snape's desk and walked down to his dorm, where his girlfriend was most likely waiting for him.

Lucky for him.

* * *

During the Hogsmeade trip, Hermione made sure to stay as far from Draco Malfoy as possible. The thought of what she had done plagued her all night.

Not only had she cast a spell on a fellow student, but it was irreversible! He would have to figure out the meaning behind the song before it would stop, and for him, it was very improbable he had the humility to even consider it. The _escucha mi canción _spell, or "Hear My Song," was designed by women who were tired of men not knowing what they felt, so they created the song spell to teach the men that if they couldn't learn to feel their hurt at being ignored or laughed at, they would live with it the rest of their lives.

But Draco Malfoy was not a lover. He was not even her friend for Merlin's sake! He just pissed her off to the point where she had to show him what it meant to be a good person, and now he would live with the god-forsaken spell forever!

Unless she helped him.

She snorted into her Butterbeer, earning her odd looks from the others at the table. The fact that she would even consider helping him when he clearly deserved it was enough to make anyone laugh, though! That he would even consider _letting_ her help was laughable.

She was supposed to be the good guy…girl…person. She was supposed to do the right thing, but damn, when it came to Malfoy, choosing the right thing was so difficult, it almost wasn't worth it.

But what if he didn't realize she was helping him? She was smart enough to maneuver him into the meaning of the song, teach him what it meant, literally and to her, and get him out of it.

Would he let her near enough to do so, though?

The group, consisting of Harry, Cho, Cedric, Luna, Ron, and Hermione, headed out to the Shrieking Shack. Ginny and Blaise were on a date, celebrating Blaise's birthday alone, and Draco and Pansy never hung out with the group.

Hermione excused herself to wander around the building to the other side, claiming she needed to be alone for a few minutes, not that anyone noticed; Ron seemed too wrapped up in Diggory's girlfriend to care about his own. Was that what was distracting him lately?

The over-stressed teen shook her head. She could only deal with so many social issues before it affected her homework, and that just wouldn't do!

Just as she was about to look up, she collided with another solid object and nearly fell before two arms gripped her painfully around the wrists, keeping her standing. She looked up to thank her "savior," but found it to be the devil himself and closed her mouth immediately. Against her better judgment, though, she muttered, barely audible, a _thanks_, which caused the other teen across from her to smirk and give her a _whatever _look.

"You're on my space, Mudblood." She glared at him.

"What makes this your space, Malfoy?"

"Because I claimed it," he answered haughtily. He really thought he owned the damn place!

"What, so you think you own whatever land you stand on? Like it's just something you can claim?" She didn't even realize how similar that sounded to the song until she'd said it.

"Pretty much, now move." He was getting impatient with the girl, but something she said had bothered him, and he was eager to get away from her so she wouldn't see his discomfort. It would have to be her that left, though. He couldn't have her thinking that _he_ would lower himself to leaving just because she told him to.

"Whatever. My friends are probably looking for me. You know, _friends_? People who actually like to hang around you?" She turned and stomped away, her tennis shoes making a cushioned _thud_ on the grass as she did so.

When she was finally out of sight, he contemplated her words. He did have the habit of saying wherever he stood was his land. But it was Malfoy right! He was rich and in power, therefore, he could have anything he wanted!

But how many other rich people did that? He shuddered when he realized only one other person ever did that; his father.

The vile man that had whipped him into shape for being a perfect Death Eater served on a platter to the Dark Lord. Just because he was prejudiced against Muggleborns didn't mean he automatically wanted to side with that egotistical ass. It just meant the way he wanted to be his own side in the upcoming war and stay out of it, choosing to jeer and cheer at the losing and winning sides respectively.

In short, though, he hated his father. And he hated his mother for standing by and watching what happened to him happen. But he had quickly learned to stand self-sufficiently and how had he done that?

By acting just like the man he had despised since he was old enough to know what the word meant.

Why did he claim what was never his? Because it gave him sign of power? A way of showing his birthright above all the others? A way of being an ass?

Had it really taken a Mudblood to knock that into him? And in two, short sentences, too!

But it wasn't just those sentences that were replaying in his head. It was the song that hadn't stopped repeating since last night. As it started over again, he realized why it hadn't taken long for her words to sink in. It was because they already had.

_You think you own whatever land you land on,_

_The Earth is just a dead thing you can claim…_

As the song began again, three and a half minutes later, he noticed where those two lines should have been, there was only music.

What was going on?

* * *

**A/N: **Will he figure it out? Who knows?

Please Review!

Next Chapter: _Every Rock, Tree, and Creature_


	2. Every Rock, Tree, And Creature

Disclaimer: I've decided only the first chapter needs a disclaimer, so get over it.

In regards to the _beta_ ad I put out, I've found one, so I'm sorry.

This chapter isn't as long as the first...and none probably will be. The first was only that long because it was the first chapter and prolouge combined because I wanted all the chapters to have 'Colors of the Wind' titles, and I'm really rather Obsessive Compulsive about that. Anyways, here's chapter two (unbetaed version)...Enjoy!

* * *

_But I Know Every Rock and Tree and Creature Has A Life, Has A Spirit, Has A Name_

* * *

The rest of the Hogsmeade trip went off without a hitch, and the students were happy to find themselves back in Hogwarts, casting distrustful stares at Harry and hateful ones at Umbridge. Once again, the Wicked Witch had struck and was conducting inspections on the teachers, although the students in Transfiguration found that particular inspection rather amusing until the Professor ordered them all back to work.

During lunch, just before Care of Magical Creatures, which they had all taken up again for some unknown reason, Hermione snuck a look at Malfoy. It was starting to become habit to see if he was holding up better; she couldn't help but feel bad for him. If the spell wasn't gone by Christmas, he'd go insane for sure, if not sooner! And it was already Halloween in two weeks!

She sighed and returned to doing her homework as the boys fell back into easy conversation about the Quidditch game in two days time against, of all Houses, Slytherin. Malfoy surely wouldn't stand a chance.

* * *

Hermione allowed Harry and Ron to go ahead of her and attempted to catch the sulking teen just outside the Great Halls in an attempt spare him from being seen with a _Mudblood_. The fact that she was even offering her services to him left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she owed it to him for what she did.

"Malfoy!" His head turned at the sound of her voice, but the sneer on his face made it apparent she'd have to work extra hard to get him to keep paying attention.

"What do you want, Granger? We have Care of Magical Creatures, if I'm not mistaken, so bother me some other time."

"I thought you'd like some help," she said carefully, avoiding raising her voice. After all, why would Gryffindor Granger help Slytherin Snake Malfoy?

"With that dud of a class? Doubtful anyone besides your precious Golden Boy and Weasel needs help." His tone and facial expression backed up his words, but his eyes told her he knew what she was talking about—and wasn't interested.

"Thanks, I'll survive on my own," and he swept from the hall in a very Snape-like manner.

"Stupid, stubborn git!" She muttered.

"Miss Granger, ten points for disrespecting a fellow student!" The sickly sweet voice nearly gave her cavities, and she bitterly thought how many points it was for charming a fellow student to go insane.

"Hermione, you're going to be late! Come on!" Her boyfriend's voice caused her to start running to the small hut she was already halfway to.

"Hullo, class!" The booming voice came from behind the large mass of huddled students, but after hearing it every day, no one jumped at the sound of it anymore. Out from the trees stepped Hagrid, dirty from yet another excursion into the Forest.

"Today, I've been instructed to do a _Ministry-instructed_ lesson from one o' their lesson books." He didn't look too happy about being told what to do in his class. "Yer gonna be paired up with someone from another house, s'rry you three." He paused to look at the trio who were forlornly looking at him. "You'll actually be using a spell today rather than just carin' fer the creatures. It's called _Spiritum Revelio._ It allows ya ter see the inner spirit o' anything in the Forest. I want the names and spirits o' thirteen different…er…things in. Ya have till the end o' class." He took piece of parchment and read it off.

"Abbot and Parkinson." The girls rolled their eyes.

"Potter and Zabini." Harry glared at Blaise.

"Diggory and Chang." Looks were exchanged.

"Weasley and Lovegood." Yet more looks; was her assumption right?

"McMillan and Crabbe." McMillan looked at the oaf; he'd have to do all the work.

"Boot and Goyle." Boot looked unsympathetic towards the Hufflepuff at the sight of his oaf scratching his head and trying to figure out which one was Terry Boot.

"Granger and Malfoy." Hermione put her head in her hands. Of all the slimy snakes to be paired with, of all the students to be paired with, it had to be the one she had cursed to the point of insanity! Complaining would do her no good though, and Malfoy was decent at charms. It wouldn't be too bad.

"Great, I'm stuck with the Mudblood." Or not.

"Malfoy, I like this no more than you, so get over here so we can start." She pointed to a boulder and a tree. "Which would you like to do? I'll do the other."

"A boulder doesn't have a spirit! It's not alive!" He looked at her stupidly, like it was completely insane she would even consider such a notion. She was ready to scream.

"Didn't you listen to Professor Hagrid? _Everything, rock, tree, or creature, has a spirit!_" Rolling her eyes in an exaggerated motion, she pushed him from the large stone. "If you're going to be so close-minded, I'll do it! _Spiritum Revelio!_"

A dark gray cloud of smoke rose from the rock and hovered in front of her. She reached her hand out to touch it, mesmerized and completely forgetting about the idiotic blonde behind her.

Even though she expected her hand to go right through, it stopped at the plume of gray. The spot where her index finger connected exploded in a rainbow of light.

"The life force," she whispered. The _Spiritum Revelio_ spell was not only designed for the spirit, the life force as well. Most things like stone never obtained a life force, but if the spirit connected with something living, it would absorb a bit of it. The host was able to retain their force however, so there was no good or bad to letting the spirit have a little. The rainbow burst had been her giving some life force to the rock. Looking at it, she thought she saw a barely-there golden sheen around it before it faded back to a dull gray.

"Life force? What the hell are you talking about? A rock is not alive!" Once again, the narrow-minded git was pushing her patience to the limit.

"Malfoy, I swear, if your mind were any narrower, a thought wouldn't be able to fit through! With enough care, anything can have life, too! Not just the living!" Leaving him to ponder her words, she continued the assignment on her own and finished their thirteen, handing the parchment to Hagrid and running back to the Gryffindor Towers.

* * *

He was still deep in thought by the time class was over and he was back in his Prefects' Dorm. Yet another thing she had said related to that blasted song that was now etched forevermore in his mind. The previous night, he had wrote it out, hoping to make sense of it, and underlining the first two lines in red ink, for they had yet to replay since Hogsmeade the previous day.

"Rocks don't have spirits or life forces," he mumbled to himself, shaking his head, "but if they don't have spirits, what was that gray thing? It's not like some random cloud swept down to touch her finger. And that rainbow! It was bloody brilliant!

"Maybe it's a metaphor in the song?" He reread the words.

_But I know every rock and tree and creature_

_Has a life, has a spirit, has a name…_

Was it possible that it just meant not to judge something by appearance? That there was more to it than what met the eye? That would be like saying Mudbloods were actual worthy of a second glance!

But Granger was more intelligent and adept at magic than anyone in their grade, Pureblood, Half-Blood, or Mudblood. And she had matured very much since their last year.

He shook his head. There was no room in his mind for petty, illogical thoughts like that. Mudbloods were nothing like them. They were dirty and sullied the Pure Bloodlines, end of story.

The ring on his right ring finger began burning his skin, the Malfoy crest igniting in a flash of green light and activating a portkey.

"Young Master Malfoy." The cold voice burned his ears and caused goosebumps to rise up his arms. "I have called you here along with your fellow classmates to make sure that you all know what is expected of you in the months to come in order to become initiated as one of my Death Eaters.

"Once a month, you will be expected to come to these meetings. Your ring is a portkey and will take you here, regardless of where you are, and they cannot come off. Every once in awhile, you will be expected to participate in some…activities worthy of a Death Eater. That is all." With a wave of his hand, the seven rings on the seven students lit in a bright green and returned them to where they were before the first activation.

He shook as he remembered the cool, chilling voice and attempted to remember something else, but all that came to him was the song that never really left.

Maybe, just maybe, he could accept everything, rock or person, living or not, had a spirit and a life force. After all, they all did something to help, even if it was just being there.

This time, when the song began, the first four lines were missing. He went to the parchment with the song and underlined them.

_But I know every rock and tree and creature_

_Has a life, has a spirit, has a name…_

Everything except Lord Voldemort, that is.

* * *

**A/N:** Yeah...Lord Voldemort has no soul...evil evil man!

Lord Voldemort: _(whine)_ Hey! That's not very nice!

VampireAlchemist: Get over it or I'll bite you! _(Bares fangs)._

Lord Voldemort: _(squeals and runs into a corner)_ P-p-please r-r-review!

Next Chapter: _People Who Look And Think Like You_


	3. People Who Look And Think Like You

**A/N: **Traces of violence in this chapter, but no seriously graphic scenes or anything.

Enjoy the third chapter of _Colors of the Wind!_

* * *

_You Think The Only People Who Are People Are The People Who Look And Think Like You_

* * *

Just as she predicted, Draco Malfoy, Prince of Slytherin, Seeker, failed miserably at Saturday's game. He might have won if one of the Weasley's hadn't shot a bludger at the back of his broom and sent him in a tailspin. She had no doubt; Slytherin would still win the Quidditch Cup this year. Why?

Because Harry and the Weasley twins were off the team, that's why. Draco had shot his mouth off and now, thanks to him and Umbridge, they were off the team. She was starting to regret her determination to help him, but realized this time would be a little harder than the last.

His whole life, he had been taught Muggleborns were Mudbloods, that they had dirtier blood than the rest. Yet the next line clearly stated he had to learn people were people no matter what they looked like, thought like, or, in this case, what their heritage was. How was he to learn that as easily as he had learned the others?

She could try making him learn to accept _her_ and hope that stopped the line, but she had been trying that for four years, and now that she was the cause of this spell, she doubted he would be any more approving of Muggleborns, much less her.

Sighing, she sat front row and center in DADA and looked at him out of the corner of her eye. He was, as usual, sitting with perfect posture—facing the wrong direction, yet Umbridge did nothing about it. Then, when Harry made yet another idiotic remark about Voldemort being back, despite Ron and her warnings before class, he began smirking, attempting to hold in his mirth and failing miserably.

Did she really want the old Draco back? Was it really worth it to have him…Oh, Merlin! That was the second time today she had called him Draco, albeit in her thoughts, but still! What if she slipped when talking to Harry and Ron, or worse yet, Malfoy himself?

But thinking back to her previous question, she realized, he hadn't even changed much. The only difference was that he was slowly becoming insane as time wore on, and he only had until Christmas to fix it, and that was at the latest!

She finished her work and met up with her friends in the Common Room. Harry left for his detention, and she sat with Ron on the couch, both of them at their homework, which was odd for a couple of three months.

The redhead sat with a distant look in his hazel eyes, like he was barely concentrating on his homework. She knew the look well; it was the one Harry gave Ginny. The one that clearly stated "I want you, but someone else has you, so I'll watch from afar," but as he stared at his books, she couldn't tell who he was thinking about. It wasn't her, so why didn't that hurt as much as it would have in September?

"Ronald, are you alright?" She saw him jump out of musings quite visibly. "Is there something that you want to talk about? I'm always up to listen." He blushed all the way to the tips of his ears.

"No, it's nothing, Hermione. I think I'm gonna turn in though, I'm beat!" He exaggerated his arm movements as he stretched, leaned down to kiss her cheek, and then tromped up the stairs; seconds later, she heard snoring. He really could fall asleep in ten seconds flat!

She continued to do her homework until all she had left was a Potions essay that wasn't even due for another week. It could hold off until tomorrow, she mused.

"Ron? Hermione? Is anyone actually still awake?" Harry's defeated voice echoed through the small stairway of the Fat Lady's Portrait.

"Harry! Come here! I've got the water all set for your hand, so go ahead." He obliged without a word of protest. "Oh, dear. How was the awful toad tonight?"

"On the plus side, she completely ignored me once I had the quill and parchment."

"She should really be fired for this. Or arrested, either one."

"The Ministry's on her side and completely against me. What am I going to do?" She sighed.

"I guess you're right. But there was something else I wanted to talk to you about. A certain redhead." He looked scared.

"Hermione, I have no idea what's going on with Ron. He just…" She looked confused.

"I was referring to the younger one. Ginny?" Now he was confused.

"What about her?"

"I've seen the look you give her, Harry," she said to him softly. "It's the same look in Ron's eyes lately, though I've no idea who it's directed at."

"What look?"

"The one that screams I wish you were mine, but you're taken. Although in this case, both of you are taken. Harry, believe me when I say this. I, in no way, shape, or form, disapprove of your relationship with Cho. She's a kind girl who's a great student and an amazing friend. But I want you to think really hard about this. Don't answer me now, but think. Who is it you really, fully, and truly want to be with? I have no biased opinion towards either one except the one that makes you the happiest. I know you'll do what's right." She kissed him on the forehead and refilled the water bowl his hand was in before going to the steps leading up to the Girls' Dorms.

"Hermione?" She turned at the top of the stairs. "Not to one up you or anything, but take the advice you gave to me and apply it to yourself. Is there someone besides Ron? Because you've been really distant from both of us lately, though I guess Ron's been just as distant with you. Just," he paused, trying to finish the thought, "don't feel like you have to solve everyone else's problems and ignore your own. Sleep well."

"You too, Harry." But as she changed into her nightgown and slipped beneath the covers, she thought to what he'd said. Was she really being distant? And was she really avoiding her own problems by working with everyone else's?

Well, as soon as Dr—Malfoy, Malfoy, dammit! Not Draco! As soon as the spell was gone, or he went insane, whichever came first, she would be back to happy, peppy Hermione who was always up to schoolwork or an adventure to the depths of Voldemort's plots!

* * *

"You seven will go out with seven senior Death Eaters of mine. I want you to get a taste of what will be, most likely, a monthly, if not weekly occurrence. There is a small muggle town, Surrey, I believe it is named. It's small enough on the map but has enough significance to get Dumbledore's attention. Now go!"

The portkeys activated and sent all fourteen men to the street Voldemort had picked for this _outing_; Privet Drive.

"Alright, split into two groups, seven in each," one senior Death Eater called out. "I'll lead group 1, which will take care of all the odd houses. Group 2, led by Malfoy senior, will take over the evens. Now go!" Draco followed his father to the second house, where one robed man shot the door in with a simple spell.

Screaming ensued. In fact, it was most of what Draco heard for the next two and a half hours. There were four muggles in the house, one man, one woman, and two little girls. They were all on their knees, begging to be spared from these oddly clothed people in front of them, but mercy was a thing Death Eaters knew nothing of.

Lucius grabbed the two little girls by their hair and threw them into the broom closet, which barely one would have fit into. One of the other two Death Eaters grabbed the woman and violently pushed her against a wall while the other began beating the man. The four junior Death Eaters looked on, but because of the masks, it was difficult to see if the other three were as disgusted and sickened with what was going on as he was.

What happened to the fun of levitating them and simply spinning them until they were too disoriented to walk, like at the Quidditch World Cup only one year previous? Surely no one deserved the torture these four were going through.

And then it was over. The older Death Eaters killed the muggles with the simplest swish of a wand, the green light jetting from their wands and the family falling dead within a second of one another.

"Time for the next house," Lucius stated, triumphantly. "You four will get the immense pleasure of dealing with them."

As it was only a stone's throw away, the group of seven walked to Number 4, looking to Number 1 to see no lights on and to Number 3 to see the first group was already in.

Again the door was blasted in, and again, a group of muggles emerged from the stairs. However, when the heavyset man, horse-faced woman, and pudgy child came down the stairs, they didn't look frightened. On the contrary, the man's face was turning purple as he began screaming.

"I told that Potter boy to keep his kind out of my house! I warned him what would happen! Ungrateful ingrate, I'll be sure to get him for this!" This surprised the group.

"You know the Potter brat?" Malfoy senior inquired.

"Unfortunately, the only family he has left." Behind the mask, Draco could tell his father was smiling.

"Then this makes it all the better. Draco, you take the boy. You three, decide between yourselves what to do with these other two. You know what to do." Yes, he knew what to do. He was to torture this porky boy, the same age as he was, into insanity before killing him. Killing Potter's only remaining family.

He realized that, while he would gladly let the Ministry take his father, no matter how much he disliked his mother, if Voldemort were to kill her or the Ministry to take her, he'd be devastated. How could he do that to Potter? Just because they were enemies at school didn't mean he wanted him to be a complete orphan.

"No." He couldn't believe such a strong tone came from his mouth.

"Excuse me?" Malfoy senior looked positively livid at the blatant show of disrespect coming from his son.

"I said no. Just because they're muggles doesn't mean they deserve to die like this. Just because they think different or are different doesn't make them any less human." He took a deep breath and pushed the crest on the ring. "No one deserves this," he said, as the ring transported him back to his room.

As soon as he landed on his backside on the floor of his room, he rummaged through his bedside table for the counter-ring his mother had given him. His thirteenth birthday present from his father had been the very ring that adorned his right finger. From his mother, he had received a ring to counter-act the effects, making it useless as a portkey and saving him from Voldemort's wrath.

Once he knew he was safe, his thoughts turned to what he had seen that night. The sight of the man that was being beaten, the woman being forced, the children being tortured, and those muggles that were somehow related to Potter made his insides crawl. He tried to drown the images in something else, but they always came back, accompanied by the queasy feeling.

Suddenly, he couldn't hold it anymore. He slid on his shoes and made a run for the closest working bathroom; a problem with his that only Filch could fix had yet to be solved. The nearest one was on the Main Floor, and he found himself in front of the toilet, emptying his dinner into the clean, white porcelain bowl.

* * *

If there was one duty she disliked about being a prefect, it was patrolling. The Head Girl, Penelope Clearwater's younger sister, directed her to the Main Floor. With her wand in hand, she stayed alert as she looked for any out-of-bed students that should not be, including prefects not on duty.

As she neared the boys' bathroom, she heard a faint noise that did not sound like a toilet flush or a sink. It sounded more like a mixture between retching and sobbing. If there was someone hurt, she reasoned, it was alright for a girl to enter the boys' bathroom, right?

She stood there for a few more minutes to see if the occupant would leave, but when the sound not only continued, but worsened, she braced herself and opened the heavy, wooden door.

Quietly, so as not to startle the student, she tiptoed through the stalls, finding the last one to have a pair of feet underneath, facing the toilet as though kneeling. What awaited her was not what she expected, though.

"Malfoy?" The blonde hair was a tell-tale sign.

The teen jumped, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. His hair was in disarray, his robe disheveled, and his normally sparkling, silver eyes were a dull, steely gray. Her heart ached at the sight, and for a few moments, she forgot all about their rivalry and bitterness towards one another.

She knelt beside him and wrapped her arms around the still-shaking Slytherin, who was eyeing her distrustfully, but did nothing to stop her. After just a few seconds, his arms returned the hug and he began crying into her shoulder.

One hand lifted from his back to stroke his hair as she sat, perplexed, as to what could have caused such a strong person to break down so fast. He had been all talk just this morning, and now…

"Shh, Draco. It's okay. It'll be alright." Even she couldn't say these words as reassuringly as she wanted them to be. She wanted to make it better for him. It hurt to see anyone like this, especially someone who was always so arrogant and full of himself.

She broke from her thoughts when a muffled, "No, it won't," came from the boy with his head still in her robes. Pulling away, she looked at him.

"And why not?"

"Because when they realize this," he paused to show her a ring on his middle finger beside the one on his right ring finger, "is the only thing keeping me from them, they'll send someone to get me, and then I'm done for." Hermione had a pretty good idea what he was talking about, but she asked anyways.

"Are you telling me," she asked carefully, "that the Death Eaters tried to recruit you and you refused?"

"Yeah." She could hardly believe this was coming from the King of all Mudblood Haters himself!

"If that's true, then Dumbledore can protect you. We can take you to him and he'll…"

"No. Dumbledore will only turn me into a spy. I know him, and don't deny that you know it, too." She sighed, and then brightened as an idea hit her.

"Then you can stay in my Prefect rooms! I still sleep in the Gryffindor fifth year dormitories so it's easier for Harry and Ron to get me. I'll change the password to something we'll both know and you can stay there." In his rooms, they would find him, and in his current state, she couldn't live with herself if she simply sent him back.

"Come on. I'll take you to the portrait and we'll change the password." He stood, nearly tripping over his own feet, and she put an arm under his shoulder to help support him.

"When we get to the room, I want you to clean up and take a shower, then get to bed. I'll come back tomorrow with a bunch of robes for you if you tell me your password. I promise I won't go in for anything else."

"It's…N-narcissa."

"Why Narcissa?"

"My mom's name." She smiled softly; he did have a heart somewhere beneath that evil exterior. "Then I'll get your things after we change my password and we'll deal with this all in the morning."

"What's…your…p-password?" He was starting to fall asleep on her shoulder, but they were almost there.

"Draco, you need to stay awake a little longer. I want you to take a shower so you don't have to sleep in that, okay? I'll even stay just outside so you can yell if you need help." She paused. "And my password's _unity_."

"I don't see…w-why we have to change it." He was waking up a little.

"Okay, but if you ever want it changed…" He shook his head.

"No need for you to do...more than you already have. That you're even doing this for me is good enough." She shook her head.

"It's just being a good person. _Unity._ Come on now and go take a shower and then bed. I'll get your robes tomorrow morning and bring them for you." Hermione thought a moment.

"Draco, please don't go down to the Slytherin halls unaccompanied by someone you trust. I don't want you to end up in the hospital wing."

"Why are you doing all this? I mean, after that spell, I think it's pretty obvious you want me to suffer." Her face became extremely somber and she shook her head.

"No, I don't want you to suffer. That's why I've been trying to find little ways to help you rid yourself of it. I was just so angry with you, and after dealing with Professor Snape and then you…it was a bad combination, and I apologize."

"No, I shouldn't have messed with you during a detention." He smirked. "Not the best move on my part, but if you're still willing to offer your services, I'd be happy to accept now." She smiled at him.

"Maybe after you've taken your shower." She turned in the opposite direction and sat on the couch, motioning towards the bathroom.

As the hot water rushed down through the showerhead, he realized that the song had been playing for the last two hours in his head, but was absent of yet two more lines.

_You think the only people who are people_

_Are the people who look and think like you…_

He was so close, and with Hermione, maybe he wouldn't have the curse for much longer. But now, a bigger problem was rising on the horizon, like the break of dawn, even though the stupid curse already hung in the sky like the midday sun.

What would he do about the Death Eaters?

* * *

**A/N:** Yet another lesson learned! Will this be over quicker than we thought? And are the Dursley's dead?

**Vernon:** We most certainly are not! How dare you even insinuate that such moronic people with their silly sticks could kill us!

**VampireAlchemist:** Must I threaten all of you! _(bares fangs)_

**Vernon:** Please Review!

**VampireAlchemist:** ...and?

**Vernon:** And vampires, alchemists, and wizards should be considered godlike in the presence of us mere muggles?

**VampireAlchemist:** Close, but not quite..._(bares fangs again)_

**Vernon: **_(runs screaming like a little girl)_

**VampireAlchemist:** _(chuckles maniacly)_ Works every time. For all his idiocracy, Vernon did one thing right. Please Review!

Next Chapter: _Walk The Footsteps Of A Stranger_


	4. Walk The Footsteps Of A Stranger

**A/N:** I've decided to actually begin putting more than simple basics so I feel I must say that the second chapter will hopefully be my shortest, and the ones to come will continue to grow. Enjoy Chapter 4 of _Colors of the Wind_ (unbetaed version).

* * *

_But If You Walk The Footsteps Of A Stranger You'll Learn Things You Never Knew You Never Knew_

* * *

True to her word, Hermione left a pile of robes on the side-table beside the bed for him in the morning. The deep green and silver emblem on the left breast pocket shone in the dull lamplight and he sighed.

Had his father and the others killed the muggles? Was his little act of defiance really worth it? Now, Potter's family was probably dead, and he was on the Dark Lord's hit list.

Draco peeked out the portrait to make sure no one saw him coming from Hermione's prefect room and stood to his full height, still portraying the image of self-absorbedness he had since his first year at Hogwarts. Still, he looked around corners to make sure none of the other six junior Death Eaters caught him. Crabbe, Goyle, Nott, and three others in years above his own would be out for his blood, but he was the best wizard in their year. He had no doubt that, in a bad situation, he could handle himself.

When he made it to the Great Hall, he saw his spot filled by a fourth year who was looking at him, daring him to tell him to move. Instead, he moved to the end of the table, talking to a little, blonde first year girl who reminded him a lot of Herm—Granger. Such a little know-it-all, she was sure to be scorned by others who weren't her friends in addition to all the other houses for just being a Slytherin.

Speaking of which, the Golden Trio had just walked through the Great Hall doors, accompanied by Cho, Ginny, and Blaise, the two out-of-house individuals separating to their own houses. Blaise, surprisingly, sat beside his friend, despite the looks he received from the others in the house. Either he didn't know about Draco's isolation from the Snake Pit, or didn't care. Regardless, he reached out to grab a piece of toast and began asking about Potions' homework due.

Laughing inwardly at his friend's total lack of self-preservation, he looked over to the Gryffindor table and caught eyes with the bushy-haired girl at the table, nodding as if to silently say _thank you_. She returned the gesture, then went back to chatting with her friends.

At that moment, the owl post came in, and Draco's stomach dropped. He had forgotten the point of last night's excursion; to get Dumbledore's attention. The casualties of last night's raid on Surrey would no doubt be published in a list, and when Potter saw his street, his address, his relatives, he would take it out on Draco. Would Hermi—Granger! Would she be able to keep Potter's infamous temper under control?

He doubted it.

If there was one thing he had learned about the Gryffindor in four years, it was that if he didn't plan on finishing a fight with Potter, he shouldn't start one. Umbridge the Toad had saved 

him the last time, and given Potter a lifetime ban from the Quidditch team as well, but what good was she if he was already dead by the time she intervened?

He braced himself for the shout of his surname from the opposite end of the Hall, and was immensely surprised when not only did it not come, but Potter simply looked remorsefully at the list. He didn't even look as saddened by the news as expected.

Observing his own copy of the Prophet, he realized Potter's address, though on there, only had one name; Vernon Dursley. Was that the porky mustached man? He seemed every bit as abusive as Draco's own father, so was it possible that the other two were safe, that they had managed to escape and Potter just didn't care about this Vernon? Or was it the boy?

Suddenly, he saw Hermione motioning from the other table to meet her outside, then tell her friends something before leaving the Great Hall. As she caught his eye, she mouthed _Library_ and walked out with her pack over her shoulder. He nodded and stayed for a few more minutes, falling back into easy conversation with Blaise before saying he forgot something back in the library and sauntered out, not wanting to seem too eager.

Ten minutes later, he found her in the back of the library, sitting on a chair and reading a book on defense charms, waiting for him.

"Hello, Dra—Malfoy." He sighed.

"Call me Draco. You didn't have so much of a problem last night, Hermione." He had given up trying to remember to call her Granger. It just seemed natural to call her by her given name, he didn't even try to call her anything else.

"Fine, but around everyone else, we still call each other by surnames. It won't look great for us to be so amiable so quickly." He nodded. "I have a few questions for you. The raid Voldemort's Death Eaters went on last night…it was to Privet Drive?

He was looking down, ashamed, as he nodded.

"To Harry's relatives house?" Another ashamed nod. "Then you were there when Vernon was killed?" He rose to his defense.

"No! I mean, I was there when they busted down the door, but Lucius, my father, told me to point and kill the boy and I couldn't do it. No one, not even a muggle, deserves that kind of torture from anyone. No human being does."

"So you acknowledge the humanity of muggles and muggleborns?"

"I haven't heard those two lines in my head since last night, so I guess, if not outloud, somewhere in my subconscious, I do."

"How much of the song has stopped playing now?"

"The first six lines. But I want to know is who is the Vernon man and why are the other two still alive?"

"Last night, and this is retold from Petunia, the horse-faced woman, after you portkeyed away from the house, Vernon, the man, continued ranting at the Death Eaters and they killed him before following you. In order to preserve themselves, they called Dumbledore and he took them to Hogwarts' before leading them to a safe house so Harry could see them."

"If you knew I was already gone, why would you ask if I was there when he was murdered?"

"Just wanted to see why you left and it seemed the best way to ask." He nodded; that seemed acceptable. He would have done the same thing.

"So you've really only gotten rid of six of those lines?" She shook her head. "_And those should be some of the easier ones_…" She was looking depressed.

"Hey! In my defense, it _has_ only been a few days."

"Point taken. Now, you said last night you would take me up on my offer of help?" He nodded. "Good. Meet me tonight, okay? Same spot. We have to get to class now."

"It's just Potions. Snape will understand."

"You. He'll understand _you_ being late. He'll murder me. Now let's go!" She grabbed her book-bag and raced from the room. He gave her time to get to class so it wouldn't look odd with them walking in at the same time.

He made it to class in time to hear her tell the others, "I couldn't find my homework in the library. Had to find the stupid book I accidently left it in, and I had twelve books that night!" Inwardly, he laughed; having twelve books for a simple Potions assignment seemed like a Hermione move.

Blaise, however, heard her say library and looked at Draco, who pointedly ignored the look and began listening to Snape's lecture. His Professor, he noticed, was drawing his hand over his forearm more than usual and was slightly limping.

Rather than follow his friend out after class, he waited until everyone had filed out before closing the door and walking to the man.

"Draco? To what do I owe the immense pleasure of this?" He sneered as he said it.

"What did he do to you, Severus?" He was concerned. This man was not just a Hogwarts Professor or his Head of House. It was his godfather as well, and he hated seeing Severus hurt as much as Severus hated seeing him injured.

"Not just me. Every Death Eater he could lay a hand or wand on the minute Lucius came back to inform us of your betrayal." Once again, Draco looked down, ashamed.

"I'm sorry, Severus. Everything that's happened to you, especially last night."

"Draco, you know that's nonsense. I've been a Death Eater since age seventeen, and it was a stupid choice made out of spite, one I regret every day. If you're serious about protection, though, talk to Dumbledore. I will support you. If you're already a decided enemy, the only things that can keep you safe now are Dumbledore and Potter."

"_And Hermione,_" he whispered, too low for Severus to hear. She was working hard to keep him safe, he admitted.

"I know you like neither, but I believe it to be an important factor for your survival. I will not turn you to the Death Eaters, so have no fear, but I want you safe, Draco."

"Alright, Severus. You win this round. I'm not going to guarantee I'll be on the light, but I will speak with the Headmaster."

"That's all I ask. Now go to your next class; I doubt Umbridge will appreciate you being late."

He walked through the winding passageways of the dungeon, and then remembered Hermione's warning. Snorting, he dismissed the notion that anyone would be down here, simply waiting to whack him. He spoke—thought—too soon.

"Malfoy, do you really find it smart to be walking around unaccompanied by an ally? After what you pulled last night, I would expect you to be surrounded by guards." Nott, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, was smirking at the paler-than-normal blonde who was having problems controlling his shivering as he realized he was outnumbered by people who could not only handle a wand, but had brute force behind them.

"Nott. You need cronies?"

"I'm not a complete idiot. Taking you on by myself would be a fool's task." He motioned for the two to attack, but a blast of red light came from behind Malfoy and stunned the two, confusing Nott and Malfoy. He turned to see Potter holding his wand pointed at Crabbe and Weasley's pointed at Goyle. Hermione had hers aimed at Nott and was about to attack when the boy pointed at Draco and yelled a spell he didn't hear.

Potter and Weasley had Nott on the floor beside his cronies in two seconds flat, but the damage was done. Hermione was standing closest to him and a pink light surrounded her as a silver one encased Draco, and the light's swapped.

Holding his hands to his head when the lights dimmed he held his hands to his head and whispered, "Bloody hell. What was that?" But it wasn't his voice that came out. It sounded like…

"Oh, hell." Both Draco and Hermione looked at one another, amazed, but not surprised to see their own face staring back.

* * *

"You mean we're stuck like this for a week?" Hermione, in Draco's body, sighed.

"Yes, Ronald. The spell Nott yelled switched the person meant for the curse and the closest bystander for a full seven days. Malfoy is stuck in my body and I in his until next week Thursday afternoon. We'll have to deal with it for now."

"But that still leaves the small detail of us having to hang out with Malfoy so as not to raise suspicion and leave you defenseless!"

"Not really," Potter spoke up for the first time in a few minutes. "Just because the rest of the school doesn't know doesn't mean the Death Eaters don't know Malfoy is a traitor to them. Because of that, there is no danger to him hanging with us anymore, if he wants to." He looked to Draco in Hermione's body.

"I never properly thanked you, Malfoy, for not killing my cousin and aunt."

"But I couldn't help your uncle," he said, realizing if the horse-faced woman and pudgy boy were his cousin and aunt, the man who died could only be the uncle.

"Are you kidding? If it wasn't illegal to do underage magic and use Unforgivables, _I _would have done it years ago. You should have seen my aunt and cousin when they came to Hogwarts' for the night before they had to leave. They were the happiest I've seen them in a long while."

"Vernon wasn't just abusive to Harry," Hermione explained. "After last night, it became extremely apparent he was abusive to everyone in the household. The Death Eaters actually did something right for once when they killed him.

Draco was stunned. So this was why he hadn't been called a lousy, scum-sucking Death Eater this morning from across the Hall?

When he snapped back to reality, Potter was holding his hand out in a show of acceptance. He reached his own, or Hermione's hand, out and grasped it firmly, shaking once and letting them drop.

"You're welcome, Potter."

"Harry." He nodded.

"Then call me Draco. Same for you, Weasley."

"I still don't trust you completely, but Hermione and Harry do, though Harry's a bit insane sometimes, Hermione's instincts never lead us astray, so call me Ron."

"Hey!" Harry's indignant shout was no match for the other three's laughter.

Draco let a small smile show through his stoic facial features. Was this what it would've been like if he hadn't been such an ass to Weas—Ron when they first met? If he hadn't made fun of Hermione and insulted everything about the two then gone and asked to be friends with the Boy-Who-Lived?

Would his life have been different if he was a part of this group all his years here at Hogwarts? Suddenly, he was angry at his younger self, wishing he had never done any of the horrid things he had.

But now, he was safe, and with people who accepted him for who and what he was, which, right now, was a girl in a Gryffindor robe.

"Um, this is going to be really awkward when it comes time for bed…"

"It's fine. I'll fix up the couch in my Prefects' Room and we can sleep there for the night. It's only one night and you'll have it all to yourself again."

"AGAIN!" Both Hermione and Draco winced. They had both forgotten to tell the two about the curse and last night.

"Yeah, I let Draco stay in my rooms last night. I found him after he'd just escaped from the Death Eaters, and I didn't want him going back to his own rooms in the dungeons where anyone could get to him, so I forced him in."

"But why would you even consider talking to him in the first place before today?" She looked to Draco who gave her a look that said, _"You might as well…"_

"I kind of cursed with a spell that makes you hear a song over and over in your head until you go insane."

"YOU WHAT!" All three boys yelled; she hadn't told him that small detail.

"Why do you think I was so adamant to help you? If all the spell did was make you hear the song over and over, I would have made you deal with it yourself."

"So I'm going to go insane?"

"You can't go somewhere you already are," Ron whispered.

"Shut it, Ron, I'm busy trying to get him to _not_ storm off!" Coming from Draco's voice, Hermione sounded a lot scarier than normal, and she effectively shut the babbling coming from her friends voice to look at her own face.

"Like I'm going to storm off when the only one who could possibly help me is not only two feet from me, but in my body to boot!"

"Then we're agreed? I'll continue to help you?"

"Of course."

"Good. Now that that's all taken care of, I believe we have a DADA class to be late for." Harry groaned.

"The toad is gonna give me _another_ detention!"

* * *

Umbridge did, in fact, give Harry detention, but she also held Draco, in Hermione's body, back to talk. The other three left him and walked to the Great Hall, Hermione, in Draco's body, sitting at the Gryffindor table, much to everyone's shock. They weren't going to tell anyone of the curse, lest anyone take advantage of it, but they were openly allowing people to see them getting along with Draco. The more friends and allies he had, the greater chance of him making it through to Christmas without getting beaten by the junior Death Eaters.

Back in the Toad's office, Umbridge was trying to talk Hermione, or Draco, into becoming Head of the Inquisitorial Squad, attempting to get her, or him, or whatever! Attempting to get her to spy on her friends and have power to tell of every wrongdoing in the school. Basically, she wanted to make the girl a snitch, and not the Quidditch kind!

Draco sincerely doubted Hermione would have even considered doing it, and he wasn't interested either, so he politely turned the woman down and walked out of the classroom, sitting at the Gryffindor table next to the girl in his body.

"She wanted to make you a snitch! She wanted to see if you would spy on Harry and Ron and anyone else and tell her about it. You would have been allowed to dock points, give detentions, and all of that wonderful stuff." At the worried look, he quelled her fears. "I turned her down. I can't believe the stupid old bat actually believed you would consider it."

"Thanks. I think someone needs to be told about her, but who? Dumbledore can't do a thing, the Ministry _won't _do a thing, and we are just powerless compared to that."

"Yes, but—" Harry was cut off as a gold light hit him squarely in the back and a red light rose from him, a green one from Hermione's body.

"Not again!" Hermione was distressed. Sure enough, when the lights died, she tapped her body and the look clearly told her it was Harry, not Draco, currently inhabiting her body, meaning Draco was Harry.

"This cannot get any worse! Let's get to your Prefect rooms, Hermione," and Ron was up, to avoid being swapped as well. The other three gladly followed and sat in the middle of the floor in a circle minutes later.

"So Harry's Hermione, Hermione's Draco, and Draco's Harry now?" Ron was attempting to figure this all out.

"Yeah," Harry said, confused by the fact that he was now a girl.

"And if I were to guess, we're stuck like this until next Thursday still." Hermione was getting more distressed by the second.

"I can't handle much more of this!"

"You!" Draco sounded indignant. "Think how I feel! I've been swapped twice!"

"Yeah, and if you're me, you have detention with Umbridge tonight and tomorrow," Harry groaned. "And next week Monday because we were late today! No one else needs to go through what she puts me through. Ahead of time, I'm sorry, Draco. I really am."

"What do you mean?" It was then that he caught sight of the right hand of the body he currently possessed. "Merlin, Potter, is that a curse quill scar?" A silent nod.

"Now I really hate that woman. Hermione, could you have a bowl of…"

"Yeah, I always make it for Harry after his detentions. Don't worry, it'll be waiting both nights. Should all four of us stay in here for the next week? I don't think you'll have a lot of fun by yourself, Ron."

"Sure, we'll just transfigure the chairs into beds, and we'll be set!" With a wave of her wand, Hermione turned the long couch into two twin beds and the chairs into another two.

"Alright, we all have homework to do. Ron, Harry, and I will figure out how to deal with all of this when it comes to classes for the next week. Draco, I'm sorry to say this, but you need to get to detention."

"See you after detention."

Three voices saying, "Bye, Draco," came at him as he walked out of the room, but he didn't get too far before the portrait opened again and Harry came out.

"Hermione told me to come with you so you didn't get caught by some random Death Eater in the shadows. Besides, if we got switched again, it could only be a good thing."

"Yeah, I guess." He checked the watch on his hand. "We need to get going before you're late."

Draco painfully completed Harry's detention and walked out only to be grabbed around the wrist and pulled under an Invisibility Cloak.

"Come on. We didn't want you getting caught on the way back either, but when we get back, I'm going straight to bed." Draco nodded at the redhead, the only one who hadn't been exposed to the curse.

As he lay trying to fall asleep that night, he realized that, despite the switch of bodies, he still heard the blasted song in his head, though it meant that Hermione didn't have to deal with it in her subconscious.

He fell asleep to the song, thinking of what the next day would bring.

* * *

During Potions, Draco, in Harry's body, worked with Hermione, in Draco's body, while Harry and Ron paired up. The four had figured out that if they went to each other's classes, got the homework, and gave it to the proper person, they'd all keep up on homework.

The day went by relatively fast, and soon, it was time for another detention with Umbridge. This time, Hermione walked him there and back, using the invisibility cloak on the way back again.

When Draco lay in bed for the second night, though, he discovered he could not fall asleep, so he thought to the very first problem; the song.

The first two lines being sung now were repeating over and over.

_But If You Walk The Footsteps Of A Stranger_

_You'll Learn Things You Never Knew You Never Knew…_

He had been so sure that these two lines would lead him to having to observe the lives of muggleborns or muggles, not Harry—bloody—Potter! It was unnerving to say the least to find out about the abuse the muggle Vernon had given Harry. To learn about all the behind-the-

scenes action the three had shared with Draco about their four years at Hogwarts that no one but they three knew. To learn all about Umbridge's horrid mistreatment of students she considered a threat to the Ministry's perfect world, especially Harry.

He was certainly learning things he never knew about the boy, and would have never learned if he hadn't been forced into this role. He wondered if Harry and Ron would have even accepted him as fully as they had if this hadn't happened.

Maybe, with time.

The song started over again, but the next lines were gone, eliminating the first eight lines from the song.

But he still had another five-and-a-half bloody days of being Harry—bloody—Potter!

* * *

**A/N: **And there is the marvelous chapter four!

**Harry:** I'm not that bad!...am I?

**Draco:** The worst, darling.

**Harry:** Stop calling me that!

**Draco:** Nah...it's too fun to mess with your mind. Or what's left of it.

**Harry:** Shut Up Ferret!

**Draco:** Make me, Scarhead!

**VampireAlchemist:** Boys...must I threaten you the same as Vernon? We all know what happened to him...After all, the story doesn't mention the bite marks...

**Harry:** _gulp_

**Draco: **B-bite marks?

**VampireAlchemist:** nods

**Both: **Please Review!

Next Chapter: _Wolf Cry_


	5. Wolf Cry

**A/N:** Enjoy Chapter 5 (unbetaed) of _Colors of the Wind!_

* * *

_Have You Ever Heard The Wolf Cry To The Blue Corn Moon?_

* * *

The rest of the week passed relatively well, notwithstanding Draco's detention with Umbridge on Monday. Dumbledore announced there would be a Halloween party for fifth, sixth, and seventh years Friday night as a way to unwind, though any younger students going with older dates could come as well, much like the Yule Ball. Oddly enough, no one had come up to the four and asked about the light at dinner Thursday night. Well, no one Dumbledore had control over.

Umbridge, as well as hordes of students inquired as to what was going on, the Toad going so far as to drag them each into her classroom and offer them a drink before bombarding them with questions. Draco was told by his godfather that Umbridge had asked for Veritaserum and that he had given her fake potion, so it would be alright to drink anything she gave them. Draco shared this with his friends—it was odd how that was becoming something normal for him to say now—and they laughed at the confusion on Umbridge's face when all four of them, one after another, were able to lie blatantly to her face. Not that she knew they were lying.

Thursday afternoon, the four were studying in the library, looking at the clock, waiting for the change. As the clock struck three, Draco's body began glowing pink, Hermione's red, and Harry's green. The lights jetted from the bodies, and Ron watched helplessly as his friends were switched once more.

"This is not right!" Draco yelled, once more in Hermione's body.

"The spell is trying to compensate for the fact that it was cast twice, rather than once." The usual braniac voice came from Harry this time.

"So we'll be back to normal by six?" That left Harry in Draco's body.

"Supposedly," Hermione answered. "Or we'll keep randomly swapping until we're back to normal."

"Lucky no one was around to ask questions this time," Ron commented, disappointed that not even one friend had made it back.

"Yeah, but we'll have to miss dinner if we want the second switch to go off without a hitch as well," Hermione sighed, "so let's just go back to homework."

And that's what they did until six.

Once again, the bodies lit up with their resident's respective colors. This time, three collective sighs echoed and signaled to Ron that it had worked this time.

"Alright, then who wants dinner?"

"Are you always this hungry?" Draco asked; he was just glad to be back in his body.

"Yeah, pretty much," though he looked eager for a different reason as he ran from the library. No one questioned it, and Harry ran after his friend, obviously just as hungry. Draco and Hermione hung back to talk.

"I'm sorry that the Death Eaters got all of you involved in the fight."

"I'm not. I had fun being you." She laughed. "You put a lot of work into your hair, don't you?" He mock glared at her.

"And you put hardly any. Do you know how hard I had to work to get all those knots out?"

"You didn't. I clean and brush my hair every single day, you arrogant ass."

"I know, but its fun to mess with you." He sighed. "One good thing came from this, though. I figured out another two lines from that song. The one about walking someone else's footsteps. I guess the Death Eaters did something else right for a change."

"They must be losing their touch," Hermione laughed. She sharply inhaled when Draco's hand brushed hers. She looked down.

"You might want to go see Pansy now that you're back in your own body." Why did she sound so sad? "I didn't want to be alone with your girlfriend in your body; it would have been awkward," she attempted to laugh, but failed and walked in the direction the other two boys had taken just moments earlier.

As Draco watched her walk away, shoulders slumped forward slightly, but more than normal, he wondered why he was feeling so deflated when moments earlier, he had been laughing with her so easily.

He felt so much happier when he was with her. Granted, he felt happier when he was with the trio, but when he was alone with her, just the two of them, something in him lifted in a way being with Pansy just didn't.

Shrugging his shoulders, he began walking to the Great Hall, determined to sit with the Slytherin's for one dinner, if only to talk to Pansy, but as he passed a seemingly empty classroom, he heard his girlfriend's voice.

He should have felt angry enough to kill. He should have wanted to kill his best friend for even thinking of laying a single finger on his girlfriend, much less kissing her in an empty Hogwarts' classroom.

But as he saw them, too wrapped up in each other to notice the door silently open and close again, he didn't feel anything. He didn't feel angry, vengeful, sad, or murderous. Instead, he felt a light feeling, lifting his insides, making him happier than ever. Was that a normal feeling when one saw one's own girlfriend kissing their best friend? He didn't think so.

The door began to open and he bolted around a corner, watching them walk to the Great Hall together, Blaise walking in first, then Pansy. She never made it to the table, though, because he motioned for her to come over to him at the entrance.

She seemed confused, though he knew it was probably an act.

"Just promise me we can stay friends?"

"Draco, what are you talking about?"

"Pansy, I don't want you to think I'm doing this so you can spare my feelings or that I'm doing this for you, because I'm not. I love you like a sister, and I don't want to jeopardize that relationship for anything." He was pleading with her now.

Pansy had been his first friend that wasn't Blaise or _assigned_ to him by his father, like Crabbe and Goyle. She had been like Hermione was to Harry, a sisterly figure who gave advice and supported him when his best mate couldn't, and he appreciated her being there for him.

He had asked her out last year to the Yule Ball and they were officially boyfriend and girlfriend, but something in him said she wasn't the right one for him. Apparently that held true for her as well if she was going behind his back with his best friend.

"Draco, I'm so sorry about—…"

"Pansy, I'm telling you I'm not mad. Don't take this the wrong way, but I think you couldn't have done anything better than what you did. I'm glad that breaking up with you isn't going to be such a sordid affair that it involves crying and hurt feelings.

"I've always considered you to be an amazing friend, and I wouldn't trade that for the world. When we first started going out, it was great, really. But after awhile, I figured you're more like a sister to me than anything else, and going out with you just didn't feel right." He smiled.

"If you're going behind my back with Blaise, obviously you feel the same, and he does too if he's going behind Ginny's for you. I wish you both all the best, and I just hope Ginny doesn't get crushed in this if it comes out, but I'll keep quiet."

Pansy had tears in her eyes by the end and he wrapped his arms around her to comfort her. And to keep her from completely turning on the waterworks.

"Thank you, Draco," she whispered. "I didn't want to hurt you, but I couldn't…"

"I understand," he said. "Now go back in before he thinks I've kidnapped you." She laughed, wiped the tears and walked in with him before he split for the Gryffindor table.

"Draco?" Hermione was looking between him and Pansy while also casting odd glances at Ginny out of the corner of her eye. "What happened?"

"I broke up with Pansy," he stated simply before taking some Sheppard's Pie and piling it on his plate.

"You broke up with—…" She looked lost for words, a new occurrence for her, before she curtly replied, "We'll talk later."

"Ron and I have decided to move out of our rooms and back into the Gryffindor Tower. Not that living with you two hasn't been absolutely smashing, but…"

"But I want my room back," Ron stated bluntly. The group laughed at his statement and agreed that, besides Draco, they would all go back to their respective rooms, though Hermione wouldn't until she had spoken to Draco.

As he watched the interaction between the people around him, he found it hard to believe they were dating who they were dating.

Ron talked with his sister, Hermione, and Harry like they were all friends, not like he was dating Hermione. They didn't even sit on the same side of the table!

Harry refused to stop talking with Ginny, who was talking just as much. They were acting as much a couple as Ron and Hermione _should_ have been!

Hermione, on the other hand, kept trying to pull him into the conversation, to which he adamantly refused. She was working so hard to get him to participate that she barely registered when his hand landed on top of hers on the bench between them, an action no one else noticed.

He was so absorbed in the fact that she hadn't pulled away because she hadn't noticed, that when she stopped talking, he didn't realize she was waiting for him to answer.

When he was silent far too long, she went to raise her hand and nudge him hoping for a response, but found it trapped beneath his and blushed. She had a boyfriend. Why wasn't she pulling away?

_"Because some part of you likes it,"_ the voice in her head responded. _"Just admit you like him and be done with it_."

She refused. She was his friend, he had just broken up with his girlfriend…and…and…there was something else, but what was it? It was on the tip of her tongue as she looked around and her eyes landed on…

Ron! That was it. Wasn't she dating Ron? So she couldn't possibly be interested in Draco for any reason besides helping him with the curse and being his friend, right?

Wrong. As she looked into his silver eyes then away, she knew she was screwed.

Because she was falling in love with Draco Malfoy.

* * *

**A/N: **You know, I could be cruel and stop here, but that would interefere with my story, so you got lucky.

* * *

That night, she and Draco walked to the Prefect Room an hour before curfew to talk about Pansy and what she had discovered about Ginny that night.

"I'm about to tell you something very, very important, and you cannot tell Blaise!" She rounded on him the second they were through the portrait hole, nearly causing him to fall over.

"Okay, but why?"

"Because what I tell you is for your ears only!" He made a move to say something but was cut off as she spit out, "Ginny is having an affair with Harry!" He choked.

"Could you repeat that?" It sounded like his best friend's girlfriend was having an affair with her best friend.

"Your best friend's girlfriend is having an affair with my best friend." Yeah, that's what he thought she said.

Suddenly, he started laughing, unable to dismiss the irony of it all.

"Why are you laughing? This could devastate Blaise and Cho!"

"I very highly doubt Blaise would be devastated." Go ahead, he thought, ask why.

"Why?"

"Because I broke up with Pansy due to the fact that she was having an affair with Blaise." Hermione nearly fainted; how many affairs could their friends have? How could they so easily dismiss the fact that they were all dating people!

"I wonder…" she whispered, too low for Draco's ears to catch. Was Ron having an affair as well? It would make everything he'd been doing as of late make much more sense. The odd glances at somewhere just behind her at dinner, the lack of intimacy like holding hands, and how he never seemed to want to be alone with her anymore. Was he just trying to spare her feelings until she broke up with him?

She dismissed the notion; her friends were too Gryffindor for that! That thought went turned in her head for half a second before she smacked her forehead. Considering Ginny and Harry, two of the most Gryffindor people she knew, were having affairs, and with each other no less, that statement hardly made sense anymore.

"We have some seriously weird friends, don't we?" She smiled sadly. Unless Cho was having an affair, something Hermione highly doubted (but who knew anymore), she would be crushed, but who was going to tell her? Hermione wouldn't hurt Harry like that, and Harry wouldn't do it, so all they could do was wait and let the chips fall where they may.

Hermione didn't even think to ask Ron if he was having an affair, not that he would have been able to lie if he was. She didn't confront Harry and Ginny about their affair, either, letting them keep their secret until it was out, and as she got herself ready for the ball that night, she had to wonder when that would be.

They were going in a mass group tonight rather than the traditional date. Harry, Ron, Draco, Blaise and Cedric were going to wait at the bottom of the steps in the Entrance Hall for Cho, Hermione, Pansy, Ginny, and Luna, who were all using Hermione's Prefect Rooms to get ready since they were allowed in each other's Common Rooms.

There was a mass of multi-colored fabrics as the girls charmed their dresses different colors, one after another, trying to decide which color looked best on each of them. After changing her dress multiple 

times, Luna gave up; she charmed it to change to a different color of the rainbow every few seconds. Ginny would have, but red was not a color a redhead could wear.

Pansy and Hermione, the best not only with hair charms and spells, but at doing it the old fashioned way as well, volunteered to do everyone else's. Ginny and Cho did the make-up, and Luna charmed the dresses the same as hers, but only to a few colors each of the girl's chose.

When the girl's were done, they levitated the camera Colin Creevey had lent them and snapped a few pictures of each of them, some funny and some serious.

All the girls wore strapless dresses, though each dress was still different. Ginny's was knee-length with lace around the middle. The actual dress flashed different hues of pink and the lace flashed browns. Her red hair done half-up, half-down and she had charmed extensions to reach mid-back.

Pansy's had a ruffled bottom that reached just below the knees that flashed from brilliant emerald to bright silver Hermione associated with Draco's eyes. Her hair was extended to below the shoulders with loose curls all over.

Luna wore a long dress to the floor that, due to her annoyance with the coloring, now vibrantly flashing all colors of the rainbow. Her bright, platinum blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail with rainbow barrettes to match the dress.

Cho's dress was the only one without a color charm on it. The pleated skirt reached down to the floor and the entirety of the material had a blue and gold Asian pattern, much like her Yule Ball dress the previous year.

Hermione's was plain and simple. It flashed between gold and silver and the skirt reached to her knees with a small diamond buckle flashing green and red in the middle of the waistline to accent the dress. Her hair was a combination of Ginny's and Pansy's, extended slightly lower than Ginny's in the same half-up, half-down style with loose curls in the hair still down. The magically-shrunken camera fit in the pocket she had stitched to the inside of the bottom of the skirt with her wand.

They made their way down to the Entrance Hall, surrounded by hoards of other couples, and some individuals. The boys were talking at the bottom of the steps, though each was staring at another oddly, like it was unfathomable they were even talking to each other, much less going to the Ball in a group.

The girls laughed and took a picture just as the boys turned their heads to look at the girls, but Hermione noticed Harry look at Ginny more than Cho and Blaise at Pansy more than Ginny. She was too busy watching these two couples to notice the others or the fact that Ron wasn't looking at her, but Draco wasn't. He saw where Ron's eye's and wasn't sure if he should be happy or not about it.

"Smile everybody!" Hermione levitated the camera to snap a few photos of the whole group, then each of the couples. She even somehow managed to get Ginny and Harry get a picture together, and Pansy and Blaise as well, without making it obvious she wanted them to get their own picture. What surprised her was when Pansy snatched the camera and Blaise pushed Draco to stand next to her.

Awkwardly, she put her arm around his waist as he put one around hers and smiled, hoping it didn't look scared or forced. The light flashed on the camera, and for a few, disoriented seconds, neither of them broke the grip. After awhile, someone coughed, though neither knew who, and the group of ten made their way to the Great Hall.

The sky was streaked with shooting stars and the Weird Sisters music played from the stage. Rather than the frozen dance floor that had been so amazing just last year, the floor was scattered with leaves that wouldn't move, and dark trees overhung on all sides; it was like the Forbidden Forest without the Dark Creatures.

The group found a table and sat down with drinks, talking about the decorations and the music when Pansy, who had been bouncing her leg up and down the table for the last few minutes, finally threw her hands up and grabbed Hermione, who was on her left, and Blaise, on her right, and stood up.

"I don't care if you all sit here for the rest of the night, but I am going to dance, and I am _not_ going alone!" She dragged the two, powerless in her grip, to the dance floor, soon followed by the others who were laughing at the distress on Hermione's face as she was dragged to the leaf-covered floor.

When the entire group was on the floor, Pansy once again took hold of Hermione's wrist and dragged her back off the floor.

"Why did you do that?" Hermione was secretly glad to be off the floor; she always felt odd during dances that didn't require partners. "I thought you wanted to dance."

"I did, but you didn't look like you did," Pansy stated knowingly. Hermione flushed. "And because I wanted to ask you something."

"Ask away." She took a sip of the punch next to her.

"Do you like Draco?" Hermione backwashed, hoping whoever's punch it was didn't plan on drinking anymore. After she was done coughing up the liquid left in her lungs, she asked, "could you repeat that, please?"

"You heard me. Do…You…Like…Draco?" She clearly enunciated every word, just to make sure Hermione clearly heard her this time, though she had no doubts that the choking girl already knew what she had asked.

"That's hardly possible. I'm Ron's girlfriend, remember?"

"And I was cheating on Draco with Blaise, so it's possible to still like someone while dating someone else." Pansy was getting a little impatient with the evading of her question.

Hermione was curious what the girl was getting at. "And if I said yes?" Pansy smiled at the answer.

"I would have to ask why you were still with Ron," she answered bluntly. "Hypothetically speaking, of course."

"Hypothetically speaking?" Pansy nodded. "I would tell you…" Why was she still with Ron? He hardly paid attention to her anymore, and that wasn't just a petty girl's desire for attention. Ron really didn't talk to her anymore just because he _wanted _to. He preferred to talk to…

Hermione gasped. She had dismissed the stupid notion of Ron being involved in the affair chain her friends had recently developed, but when she analyzed everything, like she normally did…

He was always looking behind her at the table, and Ravenclaw's table sat that way. Not trying to sound selfish, but when they had walked down the stairs just that very evening, she briefly noticed the first girl his eyes went to was at her left…

…Luna. Was Ron interested in Luna? Being interested didn't mean he had to be having an affair with her, though. After all, Luna was with Diggory, who, lately, was interested in Harry's girlfriend.

The chain grows.

Hermione groaned and dropped her head into her hands. "When did Hogwarts' become a soap opera!" Pansy, not knowing what a soap opera was, simply waited for Hermione to get over whatever little crisis she was having, patiently folding her hands in her lap and sipping the punch next to her.

"Pansy, not to change subjects, but what would you say if I told you everyone our friends are dating is messed up?"

"What are you talking about? I know Blaise, Draco and I had a few issues, but we worked through them. I don't see how the rest of you are involved, besides Ginny." Hermione laughed.

"That's just it, though. Ginny's going behind Blaise with Harry, Cho and Cedric have liked each other since last year, that much is obvious, and I really don't see how she ended up with Harry, and I'm fairly certain Ron likes Luna." She got through all that in one breath, and had to pause to take a breath of air while Pansy digested this.

"So you're telling me…"

"We are all idiots," Hermione laughed, and Pansy joined in, and when the other seven came over, asking what was wrong, the two girls looked at each other and started laughing hysterically. The confused group looked to each other to see if anyone else knew what was so funny, but could find nothing, so they sat at the other empty spots on the table.

"Pansy, what is so funny?" Blaise asked the girl sitting next to him.

"Yeah, Hermione, what's got you in a twist?" Ginny didn't enjoy being left out of anything. The two looked at the other three girls and said _later_, abruptly ending the conversation.

Suddenly, a slow song came on and the couples looked at each other, the boys extending their hands to the girls, including Draco and Pansy since they were the only singles…kind of.

Partway through the song, Pansy and Draco stopped and, when Draco went to sit, Pansy asked Ginny if she could cut in, claiming to want to dance with her other best friend. Ginny cut into Harry and 

Cho's dance, asking the same. Oddly enough, the chain continued down to Cedric and Luna when Cho asked if she could have a dance for "old time's sake."

Luna was about to go and sit, but Hermione caught the longing look on her boyfriend's face. She leaned into Ron and whispered into his ear, "Ask her to dance." She pulled away and would have laughed at the stunned look on his face if it wasn't for the seriousness of the situation.

When he went to ask the blonde to dance, she saw the looks in both their eyes and knew; Ron and Luna had been going behind her and Cedric and from the looks in his and Cho's eyes, she fleetingly thought the same about them.

If _everyone_ in the group felt like this, why wasn't anyone acting on it? They all obviously liked someone else, so why didn't anyone do anything?

She sighed, realizing it was because they had no problem going behind their boyfriend or girlfriend to be with another's significant other if they didn't get caught, but none wanted to hurt their friends by breaking up with them. If they only knew everyone else was doing the same thing they were.

Hermione went to sit back at the table, scowling at the fact that the song, a particularly long one, still had at least a minute to go. She was five feet when a pale hand took her hand and pulled her back to the floor she had just vacated. Her breath hitched when her eyes recognized the emerald green dress robes Draco had worn to the Ball that night.

The minute ended far too soon in her mind, and from the looks on everyone else's faces, they thought the same.

The rest of the night progressed fairly easily after that. Not much of a surprise to Hermione and Pansy, the only two that knew of _all _the others secrets, no one danced with their actual boyfriend or girlfriend after the first dance, which Hermione, nor any of the others, had a problem with. She actually got into some of the faster songs, too, melting into the group and not feeling like she was standing out like a sore thumb.

By the end of the night, the girl's had taken off their heels to avoid blisters, and they carried them out of the hall, standing next to one another. Ron had offered his Prefect Room's to Draco for the night so the girl's could have a sleepover in Hermione's. It was in safe, neutral territory as a pose to where Pansy's were, in the dungeon, and the girl's had unanimously agreed on it.

The girl's disappeared into the room's Portrait as Ron pointed to the Portrait next to it, telling Draco the password and disappearing around the corner with Harry to get to the Gryffindor rooms. He was about to walk in when he noticed the miniature camera on the floor next to the Portrait Hole where the girl's had disappeared moments before.

He picked it up and was about to knock when the girl's Portrait opened and Hermione's voice floated through.

"Don't worry! If I can't find it in ten minutes, I'll come back and we'll make an ad to copy and put around the school!" She wasn't looking where she was going, though, and ran smack into Draco as the Portrait door closed.

"Oh! Sorry!" She looked up to see who she had bumped into and found herself immersed in the silver eyes blinking back at her. "Draco! I'm sorry, I was just leaving to try and find Colin Creevey's camera. He lent it to me for the night, and I lost it."

He held up the object in his hand. "This?"

She looked elated. "That's it! Where was it?" He smiled.

"Just outside the Portrait." She didn't respond. He hardly ever smiled around them, or anyone, according to Pansy. Smirk, yes, but never a genuine smile.

It was the kind of smile that not only lit up his entire face, but the room. It was a smile that would have made angels stop in their tracks. Okay, maybe not _that _great, but to her…

"Hermione?" She wasn't responding to anything; just staring at his face. He leaned closer to get her attention, putting his hands on her waist to shake her. "Hermione, are you okay?" He moved his hands a bit, making her snap out of her trance and almost fall over at the same time.

"Whoa!" He strengthened his hold on her to make sure she didn't fall, and her hands flew to grip at his robes, steadying herself. When her balance was back, she still didn't let go, though. Her cinnamon brown eyes locked to his silver ones and she could feel his breath mingling with hers. They leaned closer to each other, eyelids slipping shut.

Later, she would think about how close they had been to nearly kissing in the dark deserted corner of a Hogwarts' hallway until the wolf's bay at the moon broke the spell.

They jumped apart and she muttered a thank you for the camera before stumbling through her password before doing the same through the Portrait.

He ran his hand through already-messed-up blonde hair and turned to the Portrait Ron had showed him. Stupid wolf.

Wasn't there something about a wolf in that song? He had tuned it out for the night, instead listening to the music of the Ball, but now, the wolf that had ruined that oh-so-perfect moment brought it back to the forefront of his mind.

_Have You Ever Heard The Wolf Cry To The Blue Corn Moon?..._

Yes, he had now. But he very much doubted his bitter feelings towards said wolf were quite what the song was referring to.

Maybe he could ignore that line in the song for now.

* * *

**A/N:** You didn't think he would solve a line to the song _every_ chapter, did you? Goodness, then there would be no conflict!

**Draco:** Conflict! I missed my oppurtunity to kiss Hermione!

**Hermione:** Oh, Draco, come here! _(kisses him)_

**VampireAlchemist:** Hey! You two are interfering with my story!

**Both:** (_make-out and ignore VampireAlchemist)_

**VampireAlchemist:** Hey! _(angry at being ignored)_ I'll bite you! (_still ignored)._ Well, this has never happened before. Normally they run screaming at those threats...oh, well. Please Review!

Next Chapter: _The Grinning Bobcat_

* * *


	6. The Grinning Bobcat

**A/N:** Not much new or interesting, so enjoy! Chapter 6 (unbetaed version) of _Colors Of The Wind!

* * *

_

_Or Asked The Grinning Bobcat Why He Grinned?_

* * *

"Wow, Hermione, that was quick." Ginny and Pansy were setting up sleeping bags while Luna and Cho put together the bowls filled with Cauldron Cakes and Every Flavor Beans.

"Yeah, we expected you to actually go over the ten minutes you said you'd be," Ginny laughed, levitating a pillow to smack the brunette in the face. She finally got the mouthful of cushion out of her face before putting the still-small camera on an end table and running to smack her friend back the good old-fashioned Muggle way; hard.

A full-fledged pillow fight ensued and didn't stop until all the pillows were bits of fluff and feather scattered along the carpeting. A quick repairing charm and two bowls of candy later, the girls were huddled in a circle doing what girls do best; talk. And girl talk, more often than not, turned out to be gossip…but not tonight.

"So, Pansy and Hermione, what was so funny that had Hermione choking into the fruit punch?" Ginny refused to let go of the fact that she was left out of something, and now the other two girls were hanging on to every word. The Gryffindor turned to the Slytherin, smirking.

"Do we tell them the whole truth?"

"Most definitely. All five are here, so we might as well."

"Okay." Hermione, trying to find the best way to say what she had to say, turned to face the other girl's, who were hanging onto every word. "If I told you girl's I was having an affair, by show of hands, how many of you would say I'm a horrible person?"

No one raised their hands.

"Somehow, I had a feeling that was the case." She stood up to face Ginny.

"Harry." She ignored the startled gasp and moved to Cho.

"Cedric." Once again, she ignored the spluttering and surprise and moved to the next girl…Luna.

"Ron." Flippantly, she pointed at Pansy and simply said, "Blaise." Facing the girl's who, besides Pansy, were utterly stunned, she laughed and said, "And for the record, I'm not having an affair, and I don't think any of you are horrible people. I do think," she said this part seriously, "that you all need to find your boyfriends and tell them, seeing as they're all having one, too."

The three looked at each other, torn between yelling at the girl who was cheating with their boyfriend and apologizing to the girl whose boyfriend they were cheating with. Finally, they gave up and fell into the same fit of laughter that had grabbed Hermione and Pansy earlier.

By the time the five went to sleep, they had all apologized to each other and had made a pact; to tell their boyfriend's about what they had all been doing behind each other's backs.

* * *

Breakfast the next morning did not happen, as the late night talk and sugar rushes had kept them up into the night, causing them all to sleep well past the morning meal. They would have missed lunch if Harry, Ron, and Draco, the only ones who knew the password, hadn't come bursting in, insisting boredom and the need for entertainment.

"And I suppose waking us up is your choice of entertainment?" Hermione did _not_ appreciate being woken up earlier than she wanted to be, and the simultaneous groans from the muddled heaps of sleeping bags told her the other four didn't either.

"That would be correct!" Draco was happily sitting cross-legged on the floor next to Hermione, extremely bouncy and completely opposite from the normally sulking boy she was used. He leaned close and Hermione's breathe hitched, but she glared at his next words.

"You have morning breath." His nose scrunched up and his eyes squeezed shut at the same time he stuck his tongue out. The expression on his face was so priceless, Hermione couldn't help but to drop her glare and laugh along with the other two boys who were attempting to raise the four still-groggy girls from their half-awake half-asleep state.

"That's because I just woke up thanks to you!"

"You're welcome!" The others looked on at their light-hearted bantering and smiled knowingly; even Ron. The way Hermione's glare, the one that normally frightened Harry and Ron into doing their homework, caused Draco to smirk. The way the comments that would normally result in a beautiful right-hook to his eye now made her laugh and push him in mock annoyance.

"If you two lovebirds are quite done," Luna ignored the blushes, "we're all quite hungry for lunch, so if the boys could leave while we get changed, that'd be nice." The boy's pouted, but to no avail, so they eventually left, leaving the girls to dress.

"Luna!" A dark red still stained Hermione's cheeks. "How could you…I mean…why would—…"

"Oh, come on, Hermione!"

"Yeah, we were cheating on our boyfriends, but at least we came out and admitted it when confronted!" Pansy and Ginny stood side by side, ganging up on her, while the other two sat near the back of the room, talking about an assignment; classic Ravenclaw's.

"But…" Two cold, steely glares rooted her to her spot.

"When we tell our boyfriends about our affairs and break up with them…" Ginny trailed off, allowing Pansy to continue.

"…You will ask Draco out on the next Hogsmeade trip!" The two dared her to say different, which she did. A bad move on her part, she would reminisce later.

"And if I don't?" A dark look overtook their eyes.

"Then we ask him for you."

"Okay! I'll ask!" Satisfied with their work, the pair finished getting dressed and followed the other three out the Portrait Hole where the three boys were still waiting. Draco, Hermione noticed, seemed to be blushing violently and mumbled a _let's go_ before taking off. Hermione rounded on Harry and Ron.

"What did you two do to him?"

"Nothing much," Ron said innocently.

"Yeah, Hermione, we're completely innocent!" She snorted.

"You two wouldn't know innocent if it was tattooed on your foreheads!"

"I resent that!"

"What's a tattoo?" Harry quickly explained the concept of inking a design straight onto the skin. "Why would anyone want to do something that permanent? What happens when you get old and the design gets all flabby and gross?"

The look on his face was so similar to Draco's after he had smelled her morning breath that she couldn't help but smile as they followed the blonde Slytherin's path down to the Great Hall for lunch.

Everyone sat down in their usual spots and Hermione looked to the other girl's to make sure they were ready for what they had to do. During a spot in Ron's eating where he was silent for a particularly long time, she grabbed his attention.

"Ron," she began, nervously. Ron had been the first boyfriend she'd ever had and as such, it was the first time she was ever breaking up with someone as well. "Um, I think…I think we'd be better as really, really great best friends," she said, looking down.

His face was emotionless as he asked, "Does this mean we're breaking up?"

"Yeah." She looked back up at him and said, "But we can still be friends, right?" He broke into a huge grin.

"Hermione, I think that'd be great!" He was happy that he hadn't had to be the one to break up with her and make her cry. As much as he liked Luna, making his best friend cry was not something he enjoyed doing, and he had done so much of it last year, he would have beat himself over the head with a crystal ball if he'd done it again.

When Ron looked back down to eat again, Hermione caught Luna's eye from across the tables and gave her a wink. The platinum blonde nodded and stood from her spot at the Ravenclaw table and 

floated to the Hufflepuff's to sit by her boyfriend. A unanimous gasp arose from the people surrounding the two, giving Cho her signal to sit come and sit next to Harry for her part.

"Harry?" The brunette looked at the girl sitting across from him; he somehow knew what was coming if the last two break-ups were anything to go by. "We need to talk."

"You want to break up? I've kind of noticed a pattern and something's telling me Blaise is next."

"Well, Harry, you see," and she bent close to whisper something into his ear so that the surrounding Gryffindor's didn't get hold of the information and spread the gossip.

When she was done, Harry asked, "Really? Well that's just odd, because I had one with—"

"Ginny," Cho finished. "I'm well aware, as are all the girls. I'm sure Hermione will explain it to you boys later, but right now its Ginny's turn. Go ahead, Gin!" The redhead stood and walked to Blaise's spot at the table, sitting down squarely across from him and doing what the others had done just moments before.

They brought a whole new meaning to the term "afternoon soap opera." Five break-ups in one lunch and they weren't even done yet!

When Ginny returned to the table, she sat next to Harry, and around the Hall, Cho could be seen seated beside Cedric, Pansy next to Blaise, and Luna glided over to sit beside Ron. The boy's were obviously perplexed with what had just transpired, but decided their stomachs were more important, so they continued to heap food onto the already dirty plates.

Hermione looked to the blonde teen on her right, smiling softly at how well he was fitting in with their group when simply weeks ago he would have stuck out like a sore thumb. His sarcastic wit fit in well with the two who had been like brothers to her since the beginning of their time here at Hogwarts'.

"Ahem." A cough startled her out of her trance and she realized she had been staring at Draco for a couple of minutes. As she surveyed the faces among her, she saw the only one looking at her was a certain redhead who was motioning at the current object of her affections. Suddenly reminded of what would happen if she didn't ask him herself, she braced herself for her task.

"Draco?" Still with a mouthful of food, he looked at her, innocent, bright silver eyes gleaming in the bewitched sunlight of the ceiling. "I was wondering if you…" She never got to finish.

"Students!" Professor Dumbledore's voice rang out among the students. "I must ask you all to return to your dormitories. Teachers, Heads, and Prefects, please remain behind."

As each House designated a non-prefect seventh year to lead the students back to their Houses, the ones the Headmaster had asked to stay behind looked at each other, confused as to what could possibly be wrong.

When the masses were gone, the Prefects moved to stand by their Head of House. Ron and Hermione were among the ones who moved to be near Professor McGonagal. Cedric and his fellow prefects moved to Professor Sprout's side. Professor Flitwick stood guard over Luna and Cho, as well as the others. Draco and Pansy each stood to one side of Professor Snape, who was clutching at his forearm.

"It seems the Death Eater's have staged an attack on the school," Dumbledore explained gravely. "We apparently have something they want and will leave if it is returned to them, though they did not specify what it was we had. I am unable to say whether it is a person or an object they are after as they made it quite clear we already knew what it was."

Hermione was not fooled by his confused tone and speech, claiming to not know what the Death Eaters were after. She knew by the way the teachers involved in the Order kept sneaking glances at Draco and back to the Headmaster. She knew by the way Dumbledore himself kept flicking his eyes to the youth.

She knew by the way Draco kept fidgeting with the rings on his hands as though willing them to remain glued to his fingers.

"They have not sent many, and they seem to be either newly initiated or junior Death Eaters, so they should not prove much of a problem." He looked saddened; some of those Junior Death Eaters were Hogwarts' students. "I must ask you all not to kill them if it can be avoided. You may incapacitate them, stun them, or freeze them, but bring them back alive. There will be a room waiting for them later. Split into teams of three with a teacher in every group."

The fifth year prefects automatically went for their Heads of House except Hermione and Ron. After three years, four for Harry, of battling Dark Arts and getting through duels with Death Eaters, the two considered themselves experienced in the art of dueling.

Dumbledore noticed the two were missing a teacher and went over to them.

"Harry is waiting just outside the Hall under his invisibility cloak. Fill him in on whatever he doesn't know and do what you can, but do _not_ get hurt. I am going to trust you three to go on your own, understood?"

They nodded and fled from the Hall, knocking into a solid, invisible form two feet from the doors.

"Come on, Harry! We need to kick some Death Eater ass again!" Ron took the invisible figure by what he thought was the arm and began running. The cloak whipped off at the wind pushing against it, but Hermione grabbed it by a corner and stuffed it into the side of her robes, concealing it from view.

Seconds before they reached the doors, the giant oak barriers blasted open, revealing Death Eaters. The trio hid behind the hourglasses, watching as the robed figures, ten or twenty in number, 

stormed through the doorway and towards the Great Hall. Apparently, they had been hoping to catch the students by surprise.

Now it was confirmed; they were definitely junior Death Eaters.

From their places behind the enormous glass objects, they were able to watch as the prefects and teachers stunned their way through the first twenty Death Eaters with an odd spell from one of them every once in awhile if they needed help.

Hermione took the concealed cloak from her robe pocket and draped it over her and the other two.

"Voldemort wouldn't send a couple inexperienced junior Death Eaters if he really wanted what he's after," Harry mused.

"So he either doesn't really want what he says he wants…" Ron began.

"…Or this isn't all there is," Hermione finished. Quickly and quietly, so as not to alert anyone in the Hall of their presence, the three slipped out the doors under the protection of the cloak.

Suddenly, it grew cold.

"This is not good," Harry muttered.

"Dementors!" A voice from the school screamed it before any of them could, but they all knew the horrible cold feeling. The feeling that no happiness was left it the world. The feeling of being trapped in your nightmares.

"But He wouldn't send Junior Death Eaters and Dementors without people who could decently perform a Patronus, would he?" Hermione asked. "It would be like asking to take out the juniors."

"Either way, we've got to stop them before they get up there," Harry said, raising his wand to cast the charm.

"No! We're under this cloak for a reason! If they see a silver stag from out of nowhere, they'll look over here and we're bound to be caught!" Hermione whispered, trying to lower his wand hand. "Dumbledore is perfectly capable of repelling the dementors; if he needs help, _then_, and only then, can you help him."

"But…"

"I mean it. He trusts us to do the right thing without him or another teacher standing over us, which means keeping _you_ out of danger."

"But they're not after me this time!" Harry said, obviously annoyed that she wouldn't listen to him. "If you would listen to me, you'd understand! They're after…" Hermione gasped; she knew the last word to that sentence.

"They're after Draco." She chanced a look back at the school and saw a group of dementors with numbers nearing seventy or eighty charging the fortress. "We have to get back there!"

"Thank you for finally catching up with the rest of the class!" Harry said, throwing his hands up, and pushing the cloak off. Once again, Hermione grabbed the silver material and ran after the boys, praying Draco was still alright.

* * *

He knew the minute Dumbledore announced the attack they were there for him. He wasn't trying to kid himself; the ring had been getting brighter green every day, hoping to break the countercharm on the other ring and draw him back into the Dark Lord's grasp. Still, when Dumbledore had said to get into groups and looked at him, even when he had seen the option to bail and get to a safe place while the battle went on, he stayed. He stayed to fight, but why?

Courage was the Gryffindor trait; the Slytherin's was cunning. Well, and to turn tail and run in the interest of self-preservation, which was something he was generally very good at. So why was he staying even when he knew he had the option to leave and not be labeled a coward later?

Because he had to make sure she was alright.

Hermione was a very capable witch. She was the brightest in their year and was able to learn nearly every charm at an alarming rate. There was no reason to be worried about her in the battle. But he was.

When the first groups of juniors came through, it was almost a letdown on Voldemort's part. Sending junior Death Eaters, some not even out of school, to deal with fully-trained witches and wizards wasn't something the Dark Lord had been known to do, even in his earlier years as a feared wizard. The only time he had even been in any remote danger was when Nott pinned him against a wall, but a stunner from the opposite direction caught the taller teen off guard and gave Draco the opportunity to knock him out. When he looked at the direction the stunner had come from though, the path led to the Slytherin hourglass. He dismissed it as a running shot by an ally and continued incapacitating the other Death Eaters.

Then, the room grew cold.

He suddenly could feel every hit of his father's belt against his back. Could recall the pain of each curse his father cast when he did something wrong, like being second in class to a _Mudblood_; the word left a bitter taste in his mouth now. He could hear every scream from his father's study from the few, rare times his mother had been caught trying to sneak him food during a punishment. Every raw, unforgiving memory he had repressed jumped to the forefront of his mind.

The Dementors had arrived.

His godfather had attempted to teach him the charm to repel the vile creatures, but he had always thought he would be on the side with the Dementors, never having the need to repel one.

"What was it?" He racked his brain attempting to figure it out. "Expectus Patronus? Expecta Patrona?"

_"Expecto Patronum!"_ Harry stood at the Entrance, look in at the students, teachers, and Death Eaters scattered in the room, all crouched under the hovering forms of the depressing Dementors. His wand was pointed at the one in front of him, but when the silver stag erupted from the tip and drove off the first, it continued to gallop through the hall, eliminating every one of the horrid beings in the Hall.

"That was it," Draco said sardonically.

* * *

The junior Death Eaters had been rounded up and placed in a secure room that was being guarded by two teachers at all times. The Ministry had sent over Amelia Bones to do be the Official present at the questioning by special request; she was the only one Harry could think of who was unbiased towards him and would not be swayed by things such as Malfoy Money that Lucius may have been offering.

Dumbledore, Harry and many others had noticed, was not at the Hall when the Dementors attacked. A decoy, the Headmaster was ashamed to admit, had drawn him to the outermost edges of the wards. The older Death Eater had been coated with Voldemort's magical aura and was supposed to draw the man out long enough for the Dementors to sweep in, kissing everyone in the Hall at the time, including Draco.

Glad to be safe and together once more, the group of ten met in Hermione's Prefects Room that night just to enjoy the comfort that came from being with friends. Not surprisingly, Harry and Ginny sat together on one end of the long sofa, Ron and Luna on the other. Cho and Cedric sat on the loveseat and Pansy sat in Blaise's lap on the recliner.

As soon as he had walked in the room, Draco had sat on the floor facing the fire. Much to his surprise, though, Hermione had curled up next to him with her head in his robes, shaking. He wrapped his arms around her, trying to give the same care she had shown him that night she found him in the bathroom.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her hair. "They were after me."

"But they didn't get you," she replied, her voice muffled by the robe. She looked up, unshed tears sparkling in her eyes. "I'm glad you're okay."

"Oh, Potter, nice Patronus back there!" Diggory's compliment seemed more like an afterthought.

"Yeah, that's supposed to be a seventh year charm, and it's really difficult for them, too!" Blaise sounded amazed."

"Remus taught me third year after the insane amount of Dementors I ran into," Harry explained. Hermione was glad the conversation had shifted from the attack.

"You mean Professor Lupin from third year?" Pansy asked.

"The werewolf?" Cho elaborated.

"Yeah. He was best friend's with my dad when they were here, so we felt weird having me call him Professor after third year, especially when he wasn't a teacher anymore."

"I wish I knew how to do a Patronus," Luna said wistfully from her end of the couch. Hermione suddenly got a brilliant idea.

"Harry, what if _you_ taught DADA!" Nine odd looks were sent her way, but she waved them off. "I don't mean take Umbridge's job; teach in secret! We could have secret classes in another room for people who want to learn _real_ Defense!"

"But Hermione, I can't teach!"

"Why not?"

"Yeah, Harry, you'd be a brilliant teacher."

"Shut it, Ron. Hermione, you seem to be forgetting how many people here hate me right now! Who would learn from me?" Nine hands rose around the room. "But you all actually _like_ me."

"I don't," Draco replied nonchalantly. "I put up with you." He was knocked over when a pillow hit him from across the room. Hermione ignored his cry for help and pleaded once more with the black-haired boy.

"Please, Harry! There are students who really want to know more than what the Toad is teaching us! Think of the first years that will never get an opportunity to learn real Defense! The Ministry is making a generation of witches and wizards that can't defend themselves and you can help stop it!"

She saw the gears turning in his head and nearly did a victory lap when he replied, "I'll think about it." That meant that, with enough pestering, he could be persuaded to do it.

* * *

The next day, the Prefects, Heads, and teachers assembled in the Great Hall. The students were charged with the task of cleaning the Hall while the teachers went to investigate the Death Eaters. The apprehension eating away at Draco was palpable, and after a half hour of watching him glance at the door every so often, she threw up her hands and walked over to him.

"What are you so worried about? I doubt a hoard of Death Eaters is going to storm the Halls any second!"

"But they're investigating the ones who did, and Umbridge is part of that little squadron," he explained, still looking at the door every few seconds. "If she finds out I'm the one they were after, I'll be out of here faster than we can say Voldemort, which is exactly who will find me if I leave the wards."

"And what about those rings?" Hermione had noticed him twisting the one on his left hand every so often and try to pull the one on his right off.

"One of them is an instant portkey to Voldemort that only he can activate. He keeps it on the juniors to make sure we're at his beck and call until initiation when he brands us."

"And the other one?"

"A countercharm that blocks the effects of the first one. That's why I haven't been randomly disappearing in a flash of green light when he calls. My mother gave it to me to keep me safe. I didn't know why at the time, but I guess she had hoped I would go to Dumbledore rather than Voldemort."

"Well, if you really have changed, and I believe you have, then Dumbledore will keep Umbridge from knowing that particular piece of information," she reassured him, smiling. "He wouldn't let you fall into Voldemort's grasp. Not now, after you've changed so much."

"And all thanks to your little curse," he said sarcastically.

"Hardly. Draco, you've _always_ been good. You just needed an event to make you realize it. I'm not sure if it was my curse or the night Voldemort called you and the other juniors to attack Harry's street, but whatever it was, it helped. Your true colors have always been light." She looked like she really believed that, even after the first four years of Hogwarts. "Now you just need to prove it to everyone else."

"Hermione, speaking of the curse, the line _Or asked the grinning bobcat why he grins_, it doesn't refer to an actual bobcat, does it? Because I'm afraid I don't know any bobcats."

"Not really. It's more like asking someone why they do what's already in their nature, like why does a fish swim or why does a bird fly," she explained. Draco nodded, realizing how it applied to him.

"Or why muggleborns still practice magic," he stated simply.

"Exactly!" She looked overjoyed that he had understood the line so quickly. "Muggleborn or not, magic is still in our blood and doing it is second-nature to us."

"And you shouldn't be expected to stop doing it just because a few people say you shouldn't," he finished. "I'm so sorry, Hermione. I've been such an ass these last four years."

"Yes, you have," she stated simply. "But you're not now, and that's what matters. Now help me fix that crack in the ceiling."

"How?"

"Just say _reparo!_ It's a simple charm, Draco! Ready, go!"

"But the ceiling's enchan—…" But his warning fell on deaf ears as Hermione's voice echoed across the Hall.

_"Reparo!"_ Her wand pointed at the sky that matched the cloudy sky outside, though outside it was raining. Moments later, though, it was raining inside as well, but just over Hermione, who was soaked to the bone within three seconds.

"I think we should leave the ceiling to the professionals, don't you, 'Mione?" Draco was finding it hard to contain his laughter as the water-soaked girl glared at him.

"Draco, you git, help me!" He cast a quick drying spell so she could move without the squelching water noise that generally accompanies the movements of someone who's very, very wet.

"All fifth year prefects, return to your House Common Rooms." The Head Boy had seen the mess the two had made, along with a few incidents where Pansy accidently sent a piece of debris through a window and Ron tripped over a pile of rubbish in the corner. "Thank you for all your help."

The group of eight filed out of the Hall. Draco grinned as he, Hermione and Ron walked towards the Tower where their respective rooms were, Ron and Hermione's in the Gryffindor Tower, Draco's in Hermione's Room's as they had yet to talk to the Headmaster in the midst of everything.

"Somehow, I don't think they meant that."

* * *

**A/N:** And there you have it!

**Hermione:** Aw, I got all wet!

**VampireAlchemist:** That entire chapter and _that's_ what you're worried about?

**Hermione:** Yeah, so?

**VampireAlchemist:** You need to get your priorities straight. _(Bares fangs)_

**Hermione:** Please Review!

**VampireAlchemist:** That's more like it.

Next Chapter: _Voices Of The Mountain_


	7. Voices Of The Mountain

**A/N:** My deepest and sincerest apologies fellow fanpeople and loyal readers. My schedule has been far too hectic to find time to write; I am ashamed. What with my stupid biology project (which I got an A on, so it wasn't a complete waste fo time), my color guard practices (which I love far too much to give up for anything), my grandparents being in town (who do not approve of many of the stories I read on this site ((stupid old-fashioned people whom I love dearly))), and my FPS competition (which I won ((yay me))), I have found not much time in between for my beloved story. However, now that a) the bio project is over and done with b) color guard has waned down to a few practices a week c) my grandparents are back in LA where they are much more suited, and d) FPS internationals are soon to come and be done with, I can find time to settle back with by story which I have so dearly missed, along with all of you, my lovely readers!

Enjoy Chapter 7 of _Colors of the Wind!_ ((((((((((((I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH! HUGS AND KISSES))))))))))))

_

* * *

__Can You Sing With All The Voices Of The Mountain? Can You Paint With All The Colors Of The Wind? Can You Paint With All The Colors Of The Wind?_

* * *

Classes resumed as normal after the terrifying attack, but it soon became just another rumor. Why had the Death Eaters attacked the safe sanctuary of Hogwarts? Why had Voldemort sent junior Death Eaters as a pose to the full-grown and fully capable wizards he could have sent?

And what was he after?

Only a select few knew the reason behind the attack, though no one knew at this point, even Dumbledore, why Voldemort had only sent the juniors. The attackers themselves said it was supposed to be a test, but anyone who knew Dumbledore would know this would have been a foolhardy move, and Voldemort didn't make foolhardy moves.

So what was the reasoning behind it?

Still, come Monday, the "terrible ten," as they had dubbed themselves, having difficulty coming up with a more brilliant name at two in the morning on a Saturday, arrived at their proper classes and took their seats in the dark, dingy dungeon of the Potions classroom.

Snape's billowing robes and foreboding aura were gone, taken up instead by an elderly woman who put the page number of the Potion they were to make on the board and set them to it. Across the room, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Draco, the only ones who knew of Severus' double-agent role, met eyes and nodded in affirmation. Voldemort had most likely called Snape to know why his attack had failed.

Hermione, always the one to rationalize and think ahead, came to a realization and a cold fear gripped her heart; what if Snape was ordered to bring Draco back? After all, Draco was his godson and, therefore, trusted the man. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that Snape wouldn't do it, but what would the ramifications be to Severus? If there were any…

…Draco wasn't any better than Harry at rational thought when a loved one was in danger. Regardless of how _dark_ he was perceived to be, Hermione believed that Draco had the same hero complex her friend did. The slightest indication of danger to Severus would catapult Draco into Voldemort's trap, which was sure to be set.

And the dark wizard would have no qualms about sacrificing a Death Eater to eliminate an enemy, regardless of rank. That meant Snape and Draco could be in hot water, or potion, as the case may be.

She concentrated on her simplified Polyjuice Potion, the one that transformed just your voice to sound like the person you wanted. Draco looked just as bored by the assignment as she was, though Ron and Harry were very deeply immersed, trying to make the most of Snape's absence.

She caught Draco's eyes from the other side of the room and saw he had the same idea about Snape's absence that she did; Voldemort had called him, and their wits would be called into action very soon.

* * *

Snape was at dinner.

The group of ten, now all seated around the middle of the Gryffindor table, exchanged looks. By now, the others that hadn't had Potions had heard about the Professor's absence from someone else. They had all expected him to be gone at least one more day in order to recuperate from anything Voldemort had thrown at him; the Cruciatus for example.

The Head of Slytherin kept his eyes on his plate the entirety of dinner, didn't participate in any conversations, and glanced at his left arm a bit too often to be normal. They agreed that Draco would be the one to ask what had happened, but not until after dinner.

"Hermione?" She looked up from the copy of _Advanced Charms_ that was seated in front of her. "Before the attack," he paused, realizing how short the time had been between the battle and now, "you were going to ask me something. Do you remember what it was?"

She had been hoping he would forget.

"Um, actually…" she trailed off, looking for an opening into another conversation to distract him, but the other eight seemed bound and determined to keep them out until they finished up. But then Draco continued talking.

"Because I had something I wanted to ask you, too. Would you like to go on the next Hogsmeade trip with me?" Anything she had previously been about to say disappeared from the forefront of her mind.

She had no idea what her face looked like, but it was quite amusing to the surrounding bystanders. Her jaw slid open in amazement at the same time that her eyes bugged out. Chuckling politely, Draco slowly raised a hand and lifted her jaw to shut once more.

"Is that a yes?" She bobbed her head up and down vigorously to show her agreement. "Alright then. So what did everyone think of the replacement for Snape's class today? Quite the ignorant witch. I mean did you see the way she…"

Dinner continued on with useless prattle of the same topic. No one could concentrate on anything serious, as they were all concerned for Snape, who, throughout the course of dinner, continued to look like Hell had run him over. Twice.

At long last, the dark Professor rose from his seat and exited through the doors behind the Head Table to avoid hitting any students rising from their own tables. Exchanging looks, the ten quickly 

followed suit and rushed out to the Entrance Hall where Snape would be appearing any moment, having to wind through the short passageway that led to the Heads' door.

"Se—Professor Snape!" It was obvious Draco had been about to call the man by his given name, but had enough common sense to change his words halfway through. A stiff nod was all the man allowed, but a quick jerk of his wand from underneath the folds of his black robe motioned towards the dungeons; Severus' Private Rooms.

"We'll wait for you in 'Mione's rooms," Blaise whispered, realizing the two were going to have a lot of talking to do and that their presence would only hinder Snape from being open with Draco. As open as he could be anyways.

Draco strode purposefully after the billowing robes of the Potions Master and followed him to the dark dungeons, his wand up and ready for any attacks on his person, though with the Death-Eater-Turned-Spy simply a few feet in front of him, he didn't honestly expect any.

After many twists and turns, the two found themselves in front of a Portrait of Salazar Slytherin.

"Password," the somber man said.

"Hubris." The large portrait swung open and they both quickly clambered inside, though it was very graceful for both parts. The moment the portrait shut, though, Draco rounded on the man.

"Alright, Severus, spit it out." He stood expectantly, the light shining off his still-flawless hair and his eyes glinting menacingly.

"Might I remind you, _Mr. Malfoy,"_ he hissed the name, "we are still in a school setting."

"Might I remind _you_," Draco hissed back, "that I want nothing more to do with the name Malfoy and all it represents. And that, despite your antics, you are still my godfather, which gives me every right to call you Severus, as you have told me on numerous occasions."

Snape sighed and fell into a cushioned armchair, visibly defeated. Draco smirked; the man could deny it all he wanted, but he was tied around Draco's little finger.

"Talk."

"The Dark Lord would like your head on a silver platter for starters, along with Zabini and Parkinson's for side-dishes. He is indeed displeased with your blatant show of disregard for his _power_ and your switching sides, not to mention that you're dating Miss Granger." Draco snorted.

"This is news?"

"He wants me to be the one to serve him the silver platter, Draco," Snape whispered softly. Draco did not blanch as Snape had thought, though he didn't outright laugh as he had before, either.

He and Hermione had been contemplating this all day, worried about what Snape's absence meant not only for him, but for Draco as well. They had drawn the same conclusions, and Draco had willingly admitted to Hermione's question of whether or not he would put his life on the line for Severus' and the simple answer was yes, he would.

Hearing Severus confirm it, however, was another matter entirely. Now, Hermione would watch him relentlessly, keeping him from doing something incredibly, daresay, Potter-esque should Severus disappear.

"You don't seem surprised."

"Hermione and I kind of had a feeling this would be the case," Draco relented. "The old bastard has gotten far too predictable." Severus' dark black eyes glittered mirthfully.

"Indeed. And what did you and Miss Granger deduce from that particular discussion?"

"Not much. Just confirmed Voldemort is kind of becoming a chapter in our lives that needs to end really fucking fast."

"A chapter in everyone's lives, Draco. I assure you, you are not alone in your wishes for a happy ending for this story."

"After this long," the boy whispered, almost longingly, "is a happy ending even possible? After all the lives ruined, the souls lost, the happiness destroyed? Is a _happily ever after_ even a logical thing to hope for?"

"Mr. Malfoy, after many long, tiring years, I've come to realize hope and logical are never to be used in the same sentence unless 'is not' is placed between the two. Sometimes, we need something so desperately magical to cling to, it is best for it not to be realistic." The blonde visibly deflated at the angst-filled words.

"However, with full support and a hell-of-a-lot of sheer, dumb luck, Potter may be able to restore a little light to the furthest corners of even these dark, dingy dungeons." And for the first time in a long time, Draco saw his godfather smile. And for the first time in a long time, Draco hoped.

He hoped for a happily ever after.

* * *

"Hermione, that _movie_, or whatever muggles call it, that this blasted song comes from; does it have a happy ending?" The group of ten had slowly waned to just the two of them once Draco had divulged, under the strictest of privacies of course, the most pertinent information.

"You mean Pocahontas?" Hermione tapped her chin thoughtfully. "I suppose it depends on what you consider _happy_." Draco narrowed his eyes.

"Meaning?" Hermione then went into detail about the story of Pocahontas, from her confusion with the path she was on, to her meeting John Smith and learning about things unfamiliar, to breaking the rules so they could be together and live peacefully…to his being sent back to England to recover.

"He was shot! Did he survive?" Draco was hanging onto her every word.

"Well, they don't tell you in the first movie, but in the second, it shows that yes, he did survive." She hoped he wouldn't ask about Pocahontas and John Smith's relationship.

"And do they find each other again in the second movie and live together? Raise a family?" If it wasn't for the fact that she was most likely about to incur his wrath, she would have laughingly compared his excitement to that of a four-year-old child who desperately wanted the princess to find her prince. Not that she'd tell him that.

"Not exactly. Draco, these movies were based on real events. Granted, in real events, Pocahontas was thirteen when John Smith, who was in his late twenties, arrived in the America's, and I highly doubt talking trees were involved, although," she pondered all she had seen in her years at Hogwarts and considered the possibility, "never mind. Anyways, in real life, Pocahontas meets a man named John Rolfe and they get together in the end of the second movie." She didn't see why if Disney had taken so many liberties with the Indian girl's age and other small details, why they had to go and make a second movie instead of just leaving the first one with a different twist than history gave.

"What!" Draco was outraged. How could such a beautiful and romantic, well, the way Hermione told it anyways, have such a horrid ending? History or not, it was downright appalling the way the story ended!

"And the song? What is the point to it in the movie?"

"If you hadn't gathered from the last few lines about white and copper skin, it basically depicts that skin color shouldn't matter; people are people. I guess, to apply it to us as I cast the spell on you, it would be that Pureblood or Muggleborn, we're still…"

"…wizards," Draco finished for her. He had begun to figure out the point of her casting the spell, and although he was quite glad she'd done it, the song was beginning to grate his nerves. This went far beyond any one week song infatuation, where the lyrics to one song simply repeated in your head because you liked them so much. (**A/N: **God, I _hate_ when that happens, don't you?)

"Back to the previous rant I was on," the Slytherin began calmly, which Hermione took as her cue to cringe at the voice she knew to come, "_What the hell were they thinking, shooting him and leaving her to find some other guy! It's a love story by a company who, if what you've said is true, makes millions off of _'once upon a time's' _and _'happily ever after's!"

"That's why they did it, Draco," she whispered, hoping to halt the fury that was raging from the teen next to her. She lightly pushed him into the loveseat and sat across from him, holding his hand in her own, blushing at the contact but not letting go.

"Not everything is happily ever after in this world, imaginary or real. We have to take the good with the bad, or the good doesn't seem as good. The sadness makes the happiness that much better, no matter how much we want to be happy all the time, it can't work like that. Everything stays in balance.

"Disney make's millions off their _happily ever after_ schemes and their Theme Parks that are supposedly the _Happiest Place on Earth_, but things happen. Their parks aren't the happiest place on earth to children who lose their parents, and Pocahontas was not a happily ever after scheme, nor were others after that.

"We have to accept that the world isn't this perfect glass ball that will never break, but things that break can be fixed. You and I both know that bad things happen, that people get hurt and others die, that we lose friends, but we also make them. Look at us; we hated each other with a passion at the beginning of the year. Now we're holding hands." A fact that made both blush.

"So no matter how hard we try," Draco sighed dejectedly, "some things can't be changed. The past nearing fifty years of death and destruction Voldemort weaved can't be undone," he stopped and stared into the cinnamon brown eyes of the witch whose hands he still held. "But it can be slowly fixed."

"Yes," she smiled lifting one of her hands out of his to trace along his jaw. "By taking small steps. By ridding the animosity between Purebloods and muggleborns, by accepting people for who, not what, they are." She looked heatedly into his silver eyes. "By making friends." His free hand came to gently hold the side of her face.

"Friends?" He smiled, implying something he was sure she'd understand.

"Friends," she began, returning the smile, "or more." He nodded; she had basically just given permission, and he wasn't about to pass that up.

He leaned in, locking onto her eyes and not giving up the gaze for a moment until her eyes fluttered shut as he was mere centimeters away. He could taste her ironically cinnamon flavored breath mingling with his minty one and as he placed his lips against her petal soft ones, his last fleeting thought was, _Hermione_.

Voldemort himself could have been screaming at the top of his lungs doing a high-wire act in a tutu with an umbrella and all he would have heard was an angelic choir, singing and overpowering anything else besides the feel of Hermione's hands in his; her lips on his.

The soft, beautiful voices in the background distinctly reminded him of his version of Heaven…of light…of life…of Hermione. And in that one moment, he realized the _mountains_ in the song were not mountains, per say; they figuratively meant Heaven.

The Heaven that didn't care the color of two people's skin, their gender, or their age, as long as they were happy together. The Heaven that most certainly didn't care about bloodlines. The Heaven that he currently found in Hermione's arms.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he heard the song that was now simple, white noise lose one more line, the one directly after the bobcat one, though the _paint with all the colors of the wind_ had deemed it necessary to stay he fleetingly thought, briefly irritated but forgetting it as Hermione drew him deeper into the kiss, her hands around his neck, his around her waist.

And as they disconnected and happily smiled at one another, exchanging one more small, good-night peck before Hermione rose to return to her dormitory room, he could not find it in himself to be any further irritated by the infuriating lyrics. They reminded him of her. After all, it was her song.

_Can you sing with all the voices of the mountain?_

_Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?_

_Can you paint with all the colors of the wind?_

Damn! Of those three things, actually two, as one was repeated, he had eliminated one line, allowing the last two to continue droning irritatingly through his head. According to Hermione, his face lit up at just the thought of her name, the song should be driving him completely mental, beyond normal thought ability.

She had conceded, however, that since she was no longer angry at him, well, for the original reason she'd cast the spell anyway, that perhaps it lost some of its original heat. It would, she warned him, still eventually drive him nutters; it would just take longer.

If it meant being surrounded by her, day and night, though, he figured he could get through it. But as he fell asleep, one song finished one last bothersome time before he could ignore it and he briefly thought, _It would be nice to get rid of, though._

* * *

**A/N: **Poor Draco. Still haunted by that infuriating song. I like it though.

**Draco:** Well that's spectacular for you! _You_ dont' have to listen to it for 24/7!

**Hermione:** Aw, Draco, I'm so sorry!

**VampireAlchemist:** Oh no you don't! The last time you were here, neither of you listened! Out! Out I say!

**Hermione: **Please Review. There, now can I stay?

**VampireAlchemist: **(_grumbles_) Not until your boyfriend says it, too.

**Draco:** Please Review. Now can she stay?

**VampireAlchemist:** Jeez! Fine, but when I threaten with the biting, you both cringe in fear! Got it!

**Both:** Yes ma'am! (_begin shamelessly snogging)_

**VampireAlchemist:** Damn couple! _(mutters about teenage hormones loud enough for Draco and Hermione to hear)_

**Draco:** You can't very well scold us for being teenagers with hormones when you're one yourself!

**Hermione:** That's hypocritical!

**VampireAlchemist:** _(splutters indignantly then bares fangs)_ I'll give you to the count of one. Ready?...One. _(laughs maniacally as the two run screaming, then looks up to notice readers still laughing at stupid antics aforementioned)_ Oh, um, yes, well, Please Review!

Next Chapter:_ Hidden Pine Trails_

* * *


	8. Hidden Pine Trails and Rolling Riches

**A/N:** I cannot believe how long it's been. I guess, after time, I just...forgot about my story. There's really no excuse for it, but that's what happened, and, over one year later, I found the files while cleaning up my hard drive. It might take me a chapter or two to get back on track, but I'll try. No promises, but I'm going to try and finish this story.

I'm very sorry :(

But enjoy Chapter 8 of Colors of the Wind. And for you loyal readers who came back after all this time, thank you.

_

* * *

Come Run The Hidden Pine Trails Of The Forest; Come Taste The Sun-Sweet Berries Of The Earth_

_Come Roll In All The Riches All Around You And For Once Never Wonder What They're Worth_

* * *

"Draco Lucian Malfoy!" The voice of a certain Gryffindor prefect rang through the courtyard, but the receiver of her threats continued running.

As he ducked around other students, peaking back every so often to ensure his lead over the girl, he remembered thinking what a bad idea this was. But the way he could rile her up so quickly, and over a book, was just too good to pass up, and so he continued to run.

"If you don't give that book back right now, Malfoy, so help me God, I'll…" He snickered at her flushed face, messy hair and angered expression. He knew for a fact that she got just as much practice running as he did, considering the danger she was always in when Potter was around, so he didn't expect this run to be over quickly.

Suddenly the book flew out of his hand to Hermione's outstretched ones, her mouth quirked up into a triumphant smirk. She held up her wand and raised an eyebrow.

"Magic." Dumbstruck, he watched as she began to laugh before joining in with her.

"Cheater," he huffed, putting up a mock pout.

"Since when is this cheating?" she asked, incredulous. He gave no answer, sniffing indignantly and swirling his robes in a particularly Snape-like fashion, causing her and a few others to laugh.

As she laughed, he took the few precious moments to observe her. Her head was tilted back slightly and she was shaking with laughter. Her brown eyes glittered and her lips were pulled in a bright smile, pearly white teeth showing through. Though her face was still slightly flushed and her hair a mess, she looked like and angel.

At the moment, the others were in classes while they had a free period. Lunch was next, but Draco had other plans. As the clock chimed to let classes down to the Great Hall for an hour lunch period, he took her hands.

"Come on, I have something for you." He led her down the lake and a light breeze kicked up, signifying fall was almost over. With their cloaks on, though, it was still fairly pleasant outside and the color-changed leaves swirled around them in the wind.

The fall breeze swept past them, dancing through their hair and swirling the robes beneath their cloaks, the black fabric dancing with the wind. While Hermione was still caught in the beauty of the wind, Draco muttered a quick Disillusion countercharm and a picnic appeared beside a multi-colored tree at the shore of the lake.

When the wind blew in the direction of the small, checkered blanket that lay beside the tree, Hermione opened her eyes and gasped at the sight. A wicker basket sat in a corner and an assortment of sandwiches, fruit, and other small snacks littered the blanket. The blonde beside her led her to the site and sat down with her.

Draco sat onto the blanket and lay back on his elbows, glancing up at her before staring out at the lake, calm but flowing, enjoying the sight of the dark water against the paling green grass.

"Draco, it's so beautiful. I almost feel bad for yelling at you for stealing my book." He raised an eyebrow.

"Almost?"

"No one steals a book from me and gets off that lightly," she smirked.

"Alright, I've learned my lesson. Now sit and enjoy the picnic. We still have to be back to the school in time for Transfiguration." He looked slightly peeved that their date had a limit set on it.

Sensing his irritation, Hermione smiled and leaned over to peck him on the cheek before tossing a grape at him.

And thus, the fruit war began.

An hour of fruit fights and quiet talks later, Draco peeked at his Wizards Watch and sat up.

"We have five minutes to run around the forest and get back up to the school." He turned to her. "How do you feel about being late?"

"We won't be late." He was utterly confused as to what she meant as she banished the picnic back to the kitchens for cleaning.

"I hate to break your bubble…"

"Burst." He'd been attempting to learn muggle sayings, and was getting slightly better.

"Fine, burst your bubble, but it takes at least ten minutes to get down here, running!"

"If you go around the forest."

"But it's off limits." She gave him an incredulous look.

"Point taken. But there are things in there that don't wait for night to come out."

"But they don't attack people on the path," she explained pointedly.

"But there is no path," he retorted. "Unless you call the worn down areas where Hagrid walks a path."

"There's only a path to those who look for it," she replied, "and after four years of running through this school, breaking rules, I know where that path is. Come on, we only have four minutes and we're gonna need every second of them."

She walked briskly for the Forbidden Forest and paused, briefly taking in her surroundings before finding what she was looking for. As they started on a path of fallen leaves and pine needles, Draco spotted a tree every few feet with a marked lightning bolt carved into a block of wood hanging from a branch.

"The trees didn't much care for us carving things into them, so we hung an enchanted piece of wood with Harry's mark on it. We made a truce with the creatures in the wood that those who walk the path and bear Harry's mark are safe."

"I fail to see a mark on either you or myself," Draco said, continuing to eye the enchanted trees.

"Because you're with me as a friend, you're safe. As for me," she pulled her hair back on her neck to show a glittering gold lightning bolt tattoo, "I'm safe."

"Does Weasley have one of those, too?"

"Ron and Ginny, actually. I guess Harry wanted Ginny to be safe, too. We should really get you all marked, actually. It's a route we created to escape anything wishing us harm since it's become kind of a necessity."

"What happens if a creature you didn't make a pact with chases you, like a werewolf?" After all, they had no control over their actions, Draco reasoned with himself.

"The trees cast an enchantment. Anyone not marked, friend or not, is stunned, hence the reason we need to get you marked."

They were running at breakneck speed and as the castle came into sight, Draco held up a quick two fingers, signifying they had two minutes to make it to the Transfiguration classroom. As they raced through the Entrance Hall, he held up his index finger.

Sixty seconds. They raced for the Grand Staircase.

Fifty seconds. They bolted past the students milling about that either had free period or Potions, which was a mere thirty second walk to the dungeons.

Forty seconds. They turned the corner and ran into the room with the staircases; the one they needed was not in the proper position.

Thirty seconds. The staircase snapped into position.

Twenty seconds. They pushed the first floor corridor door open.

Nine seconds. The winding corridor suddenly seemed much longer.

Eight seconds. The door seemed to be getting further, not closer.

Seven seconds. A quill dropped from Hermione's bag.

Six seconds. She summoned it into her hand, not stopping.

Five seconds. A Slytherin passing by attempted to trip Draco.

Four seconds. He walked away, hexed with Gryffindor Scarlett and Gold hair.

Three seconds. They ran through the classroom door.

Two seconds. Hermione found her place beside Harry and Ron in the front of the room.

One second. Draco found his beside Blaise and Pansy in the back.

The clock chimed.

"Good afternoon, class."

"Good afternoon, Professor McGonagal." Draco and Hermione exchanged smiles, both slightly out of breath, but relieved to have made it with relatively no problems. And a brief moment of entertainment when Draco had hexed Nott's hair Gryffindor colors.

That would make for great entertainment at dinner.

BREAK

"So where were _you_ during lunch, Hermione?" Ginny looked positively evil with that gleam in her eyes.

"Well…"

"If you must know," Draco responded, swiftly preventing her from attempting to fumble for a recovery, "I took her for a picnic by the Black Lake."

"Can I assume that's why you were half a second from being late to Transfiguration?" Harry teased before taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

"Yeah," Hermione responded. "We lost track of time and had to book it through the path."

"You mean the path let him through?" Ron looked incredulous.

"Yeah, but he was with me. And I'm allowed through." She didn't see why the path shouldn't have let Draco through.

"Hermione, we forgot to tell you," Ron began.

"You see, after the Death Dementor attack, we wanted to make sure no one wishing us any sort of ill will was allowed through."

"If Draco had even momentarily wanted you to trip, the trees would have hexed him."

"Even if he was only thinking it," Harry finished.

"I'm not sure if I should take that as a compliment or an insult that you expected me to get hexed on the path." Draco laughed the embarrassment of the two.

"I was thinking," Hermione mused to the group. "I was thinking we should get the others marked. If there's another attack, I don't think any of us want to be caught in the crossfire of the trees."

"We'll do it in three days, on Saturday," Harry responded. "It's a full moon, and my powers can remark you three and make the ones I put on them stronger."

"Wait, it's not just a normal tattoo?" Draco asked. Pansy, Blaise, Luna, Cho, and Cedric looked on in confusion. What path and what the hell was a tattoo?

"Draco, what's a tattoo?" Pansy asked.

"That's where they ink a design onto your skin, permanently." Pansy stuck her tongue out in disgust.

"That's appalling!" Coming from a family of such high wizarding morale, such a practice was frowned upon. She found herself ignored as the five continued their conversation, and she huffed, turning back to her food.

Hermione was explaining the mark to Draco.

"Harry uses his magic to do a protein mark in a lightning mark on the back of our necks. It does look like a normal tattoo, though, which is good for us." Draco looked indignant.

"No." Harry's voice was so full of conviction, full of force, that he was downright scary. "It is nothing like the mark other than the fact that it is marked on the skin. I will not call people with it and I will not torture through it. Besides, if I did call through it, the moment you made the decision to come or not, it would stop and it feels like an ice cube is being put down your back, not like someone's hitting your arm with millions of athame's."

"So you don't plan on calling people, but if you did, it would just feel like an ice cold shiver being sent down our back?" Draco was trying to get this straight.

"And I can't call you. The ice-shiver only triggers when I, or one of the other marked, is in trouble. Once we make the decision of whether or not we're going to go, the shiver stops, so it's up to you whether you go."

"How do we know who's in trouble?" Draco asked.

"Their name flits across your mind, like a whisper, but it's impossible to miss," Ron piped up, shivering himself. Apparently, he had already dealt with this.

"How did you find all this out?"

"Over the summer, when I was at the Dursley's, I was attacked. I assume you heard about the Dementors from your father?" Draco nodded.

"His name went through all our head's at the same time and we all just knew he was in danger. We contacted Dumbledore who told Harry to make sure he stayed at the house."

"If it wasn't for them doing that, I would have left the safety of my relative's home and probably gotten found by Voldemort or his cronies." Harry seemed extremely grateful to the three for their quick thinking.

As Harry and Ron began talking and Hermione explained, in greater detail, the effects of the mark and the path, Ginny explained the same things to the other five who had no idea what was going on.

For a brief moment, Hermione heard Pansy have the same outrage about being marked that Draco did, but Ginny quelled her fears, and by the end of dinner, the six unmarked were ready for Saturday's _ceremony_.

Harry, Hermione, and Draco were not prepared for the meeting after dinner though.

BREAK

The three found their way to the stone gargoyle on the third floor, which opened immediately on sight of Harry.

Shortly after dinner, three feathers had appeared in a burst of flame in front of them, dropping into the aforementioned three's hands. Ron waved them off and told them he better find out what the meeting was about later before holding Luna's hand and walking her to the Ravenclaw dorms.

Harry glanced at the other two and raised his hand to rap on the door.

"Come in." He hadn't even knocked! How Dumbledore ever did that…

Snape and Dumbledore were already there, and by the matching looks, something bad was about to happen.

"Professors, what's going on?" Hermione was never one for suspense.

"I'm sure Mr. Malfoy…"

"Ahem…"

"…_Draco_ has told you about the Dark Lord's request for me to bring Draco's head on a silver platter." They all nodded their head. "I'm sure he's also disclosed to you he wishes me to be the one to deliver this silver platter?" Again, three nods.

"I don't suppose you three, or any of your Ten Troublesome Teens have come with a solution to this?" He growled; apparently he didn't like the Ten Troublesome Teens group.

Unfortunately, their nightly meetings, though involving an hour long discussion on the topic, had never come up with a solution. The issue of Harry being a secret DADA teacher continued to crop up, but he was still avidly refusing, but that was beside the point at the current moment.

"I had feared that," Dumbledore whispered, worriedly. "You see, children, we have a plan, but I do not wish to implement it without exhausting all alternatives, as it would out Severus as our spy and I don't think we could have that quite yet."

"Professor?" Harry's voice rang through the empty silence for the first time that meeting. "Would now be a good time to mention I've been having some odd…dreams…lately?"

"What sort of dreams, Harry?"

"Well," he began, "they always start with me walking down a long, dark corridor with lots of doors, like a dungeon, but the air is completely sterile. They actually looked a lot like that courtroom in the Ministry."

"That sounds like the Department of Mysteries," Draco piped up. Snape was listening intently to Harry's description, though he looked as cold and distant as ever. Dumbledore was worriedly stroking his silver beard.

"Continue, Harry."

"The door opens and I see a huge room with shelves, like bookshelves." He never understood the room. "But instead of books, there's a bunch of silver orbs, like Professor Trelawney's crystal balls."

"The Hall of Prophecy's," Dumbledore whispered.

"Albus," Snape asked, his harsh tone laced with concern, "what could he possibly want there?"

"Severus, can you think of no prophecy Voldemort would be willing to be exposed for?" The three teens turned to look at the Potions' Master.

His already pale face turned the color of old porridge and his obsidian eyes widened an inordinate amount. His hands clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white and his breathing began coming out shallower. Only Dumbledore knew the reason for his sudden mood swing, and he didn't look keen on telling.

"Albus, you know I…—" Draco, in all his life, had never seen his godfather stutter.

"I know, Severus, but that does not eliminate the problem we have now. I do not think Tom will go into the Hall if he can goad the only other person with the ability to remove it into doing so." Snape looked positively loathsome at that.

"Albus, are you proposing that I?" Dumbledore nodded.

"Harry, I am going to require that you take Occlumency."

"Which is?"

"Occlumency, Potter, is closing your mind off to those who would wish to invade it," Snape replied with his usual vehemence. "Through being a spy, I have learned this useful skill and perfected it. You, however, will have a much harder time against the Dark Lord than I ever did as you have a direct link." He scowled. "The Dark Lord need not even cast the Legilimency spell on you; he can stare straight into your thoughts as if they were his own."

"Which is why you, Severus, must teach Harry everything you know," Dumbledore stated forcefully. "We cannot have Harry gallivanting off as he has every year."

"Right here."

"Mister Potter is not known for his ability to listen or learning challenging things quickly."

"Ahem, _still_ right here."

"I am sure if anyone can teach the boy, it's you, Severus." Harry was beginning to get severely irked.

"Excuse me! I do not enjoy being talked about in the third person when I'm standing right here! Especially when none of it is something I prefer to willingly hear!"

_Wrong tone to take with Severus, Harry_. Draco was mentally berating his friend, waiting for the inevitable lecture that was sure to ensue.

It never came. The three teens were surprised to find the man sitting in one of four squishy armchairs decorated with the four House colors; the green one, obviously. He looked defeated, worn down, and aged by ten years than he should have.

"Mister Potter, hard pressed as you may be to believe this, I do not hate you. I don't even remotely dislike you. Any animosity between us on my part is a combination of frustration and past dislike for your father. None of that dislike even goes towards your mother." The Slytherin Head was looking a bit piteous.

"I understand your dislike for me is most likely just that; dislike and anger. But I doubt you distrust me as much as you like to claim you do. Even Miss Granger could attest to that.

"Therefore," and Snape looked like he did not like what he was about to say, "I feel I must apologize for your last three years and any unpleasantness brought on by myself. Know that it was, mostly, to protect you, however unlikely that may seem. I must ask, however, that you agree to keep a façade up in class. It would not do for the Slytherin's disloyal to our cause to inform the Dark Lord of my treacherous act of befriending the Boy-Who-Lived."

Harry took a look at the worn-down man in front of him, taking in his softened eyes, or as soft as eyes such as his could be, and his defeated, bordering pathetic position in the chair. Almost imperceptibly, he nodded and held his hand out to the man to find it encased in a strong grip that didn't suit the broken-looking stance he had maintained in the chair.

After releasing hands, the two looked around to find they still had an audience, Draco's mouth open in surprise that Harry had not been reprimanded for his tone and smiles on both Hermione's and Dumbledore's faces, happy the two had found a common middle ground.

Not pleased with being stared at, Snape straightened himself out and went back to the evil Potions' Master persona.

"I will meet you in the dungeons at nine tomorrow night, Mister Potter. Tell anyone not in your little group of ten that you are taking remedial Potions." Draco snickered.

"Yes, Professor."

"Wait, Professor Snape!" The man turned to look at the girl who had addressed him. "You and the Headmaster never told us about your plan."

"That's because it involves three more years of training for all of you and me never attending another meeting, revealing my part as a spy and losing an invaluable source of information or me bringing Draco to the Dark Lord and somehow having him escape, which is beginning to look like a good option. Besides the part where we bring Draco in."

"What about Polyjuice Potion?" Harry asked, hoping to avoid a situation where one of his friends was put in danger.

"That still leaves me with the lion's share of the blame should something go wrong," Snape reminded him.

"Not if someone is sent as you as well," Hermione explained as she picked up on Harry's meaning. The Polyjuice would imitate everything down to a tattoo of the person whom you were trying to imitate. Dark Mark, greasy-looking hair and all, the person sent would be Snape for an hour.

"Nevertheless, the Potion takes too long to make." Snape waved his hand as if that was the end of the discussion.

"Not the simpler version," Draco said, suddenly remembering the Potion next to the one they had just done days ago.

"Draco, I hardly think the Dark Lord would be fooled by a man with my voice only," Snape sneered.

"No, he means the other one," Hermione said, getting tired of having to explain the boy's plans simply because she picked up on them quicker than anyone else. "The one that only takes a week, but only works for a grand total of about twenty minutes."

"That would give us enough time for a fake Draco and myself to pop in, be seen, have the fake Draco pop out and for the fake me to be caught."

"Or have both of you pop out," Hermione reminded. There was no need for anyone to be caught.

"The Dark Lord is too clever to allow both spies to escape. The fake Draco would be the only one with enough of a surprise to escape."

The solemn group nodded, mulling the information over and trying to come up with a way out of all this.

"Might I suggest you all return to your dorms? Harry and Severus, you may discuss this in greater detail tomorrow night. The rest of you, my password is snicker-doodles. Feel free to come see me if you have any ideas." Dumbledore looked worse off than Snape had just a few minutes earlier. "When we come to a final decision, I will inform you children. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Professors," the three tired voices echoed and they trudged down the stairs. Just before they left, still blocked from view by the gargoyle, Hermione stopped them.

"Harry, as much as I know you don't want me to bring this back up, I feel now is as good a time as any." Hermione took a breath, steeling herself for the inevitable fight. "We need to be prepared, and just because we're as far as you in knowledge, doesn't mean we can't get further in practical skill with your help. The Patronus, your reflexes. Teach us to use them to our advantage, to listen and react with only a split second _to _react. No one else has your skill."

"Hermione, your flattery astounds me," Harry laughed. "But you are right," he said, sobering up quickly. "And not just you guys. The younger years, like Ginny's and even the third years need to be prepared. I'm not saying that, should the war hit, say, tomorrow, they would be the top-of-the-line fighters, and the curse on the DADA position should have Umbridge out of here anytime now, but they can't be deprived of learning simple spells."

"They haven't even learned Expelliarmus for Merlin's sake!" Hermione agreed. Harry looked furious.

"You're telling me they haven't even taught basic spells that are necessary to graduate Hogwarts?" Furious? No, he was far past the point of furious, rapidly approaching pissed off.

"So you'll do it?"

"Find me some students, and you've got a teacher."

BREAK

Later that night, Hermione and Draco were doing their Prefect rounds. Neither had a positive thing to say about Umbridge, although this was no different from any other day of the term.

"How can we possibly recruit people if Umbridge is making it practically illegal?" Hermione was steaming; here Harry had agreed, finally, to play professor for their secret organization, and now no one would join because of the Toad.

"It's not technically illegal," Draco smirked; one look was all it took to keep him quiet.

"It's only illegal for Harry, the only suitable person, to teach!"

"Hermione!" Sidestepping, he turned her around and trapped her between the wall and his arms, holding her face to look in his eyes. "I want you to stand here and tell me when, at any time in your life here at Hogwarts after Potter and Weasley, you have _ever_ cared about breaking rules."

"These aren't school rules we'd be breaking, Draco!" She didn't move from his hands, but matched his gaze with a fiery intensity he had only seen once; and it had been followed by a mean right-hook.

"Why does that make any difference? If you break enough school ones, you get expelled. It's the same risk."

"Not for Harry it's not. If Harry breaks any more rules, especially Ministry-made ones, they'll gather enough to put him away in Azkaban!"

"That's a tad extreme; they need Harry to defeat Voldemort." Hermione shook her head from his grasp.

"Draco, they don't _believe_ Voldemort is back! This isn't Fudge doing a cover-up; he really and truly does not believe that bastard is back!" Holding her face once more, Draco looked into her eyes with a steady gaze.

"Then we don't get caught." She sighed.

"Draco, it's not that easy."

"What with you people ever is?" They both laughed. "Hermione, the most difficult things can sometimes be incredibly simple. If you spend all of your time coming up with these far-fetched ideas to keep everything hidden, that many more people find out. If you choose the simple things, the easy curses no one thinks to counteract, you can equate it to the pine trail you showed me today."

"Draco, that pine trail isn't hidden."

"No, just very well protected. So we use simple protection charms. Easy curses."

"So people can betray us that much easier?" What would it take to get through to this girl? Although, he had to admit, verbal sparring with this girl was a rich unmatched in price; he couldn't pay Crabbe or Goyle to talk this much.

"Just because the curses are easy doesn't mean we can't embellish the side-effects a bit." Hermione raised her eyes in interest as Draco continued. "Besides, Umbridge knows we're all extremely adept witches and wizards; she'll expect incredibly complex and strong charms, not first year spells."

"So it's a gamble."

"No more than anything else we do." She grinned slyly.

"We?'

"Don't even; I am _so_ one of you noble Gryffindor's now…although I have no idea how." His mock disgust told her everything; he was enjoying being a pesky Gryffindor.

"You really do enjoy hanging out with us, don't you?" Draco shrugged.

"I haven't thought about it in awhile. Before, when I was still a Junior Death Eater, the only reason I would have repented, so to say, would have been to get Harry into Voldemort's hands. If not that, I would have only thought about my gains, my benefits.

"I suppose if I was to truly think about it, I don't consider my time with you guys a gain or a benefit," he said, tapping his chin. Then, rethinking his wording, he shook his head. "I didn't mean it that way!" Hermione was laughing too hard to hear him, though, and the next two minutes were spent walking, trying to get her to calm down. They finally arrived at the Gryffindor dorms, and they prepared to say good-night.

"Hermione, what I meant before...I don't consider hanging out with you and the others a benefit or a gain the way I would have before. It's a completely different feeling. I don't consider what it's worth to me, what I can get out of it." Hermione held her finger to his lips.

"Draco, I do understand." Her eyes glittered with mirth. "It's just so fun to tease you and know I don't have to hit you to keep it all from going too far," she laughed, opening the Fat Lady portrait. "Good night!"

"Good…night?" He realized as he walked back to the Prefects' rooms that Hermione had him wrapped around her finger…but he couldn't bring himself to care.

_Come Run The Hidden Pine Trails Of The Forest; Come Taste The Sun-Sweet Berries Of The Earth_

_Come Roll In All The Riches All Around You And For Once Never Wonder What They're Worth_

And two more lines were gone...not that he was thinking about the curse right now.

* * *

**A/N:** VampireAlchemist: Wow, that chapter was...long.

**Blaise Zabini**: Good...you needed to make up for that long break you took.

**VampireAlchemist**: What the hell, Blaise?! You're not part of my drabbles!

**Blaise Zabini**: And why the hell not?

**VampireAlchemist**: Because...because I said so!

**Pansy Parkinson:** Well there's more of us than there are of you!

**VampireAlchemist:** _(raised eyebrow)_ You really think that is gonna keep you safe? _(bares fangs)_

**Both:** Please Review!

_**Next Chapter:** Rainstorms and Rivers, Herons and Otters_


	9. Rainstorms and Rivers, Herons And Otters

**A/N:** Guess it's time for another update!!! By the way, according to my chapter outline, I have approxiamately 5 or 6 chapters left. My plan is to make the rest of the chapters leading up to the finale average lengths, possibly getting longer every time, but to make the final chapter about 30-40 typed pages (the others are around 10-12). However, I will only release that chapter if I can hit 75 reviews. I think that's do-able, don't you ;)

Chapter 9 of Colors of the Wind!

* * *

_The Rainstorm And The River Are My Brothers; The Heron And The Otter Are My Friends_

* * *

Line by line, the song disappeared. And day by day, the problems got worse. No one could figure out how to adequately recruit students to the cause without alerting a teacher that should have been kept from the loop.

"Fred! George!" Draco saw the two redheads look curiously at him, but Harry continued to wave them over.

"Harry, what are we doing?" The Gryffindor just shook his head and looked to the twins.

"Guys, have you been working on…what we talked about?" The twins nodded.

"Really simple, mate. All we gotta do…"

"…is slip this marble…"

"…into the first years' drinks…"

"…and if they're on our side they'll tell other people…"

"…and if they're not…"

"…they pass out long enough to keep the people distracted…"

"…so the people who _are _on our side…"

"…can tell other people without the teachers finding out…"

"…and everyone is safe!" The twins looked extremely satisfied.

_How the bloody hell do they do that?_ Draco hadn't spent much time around the twins; the only Weasleys he ever talked to were Ron and Ginny, and the twins were far more…eccentric than them. Ron was a force to be reckoned with when he was pissed, and Ginny could produce a massive hex, but the twins…well, the twins could cause massive damage.

Draco Malfoy was an only child, and in some ways, he couldn't help but be thankful. It wasn't so much that he would have had to share. Actually, that probably was the problem.

Despite the intensity of his feelings as a young child, he knew what his father did was wrong. Not so much his beliefs, but more the way he carried them out always struck a nerve within Draco. Physically laying a hand on anyone younger than the age they can defend themselves is wrong, and doing it because they didn't finish their dinner was illogical.

A sibling meant someone else to take the punishment…a fate Draco wouldn't have wished on anyone.

So to see a clan like the Weasleys, so tight-knit, was different, but, he had to admit, it had its moments.

"So it's a marble?" Harry was currently examining the small pink and yellow sphere George had tossed out to him. Briefly, Draco wondered when the Boy-Who-Lived would have found time to ask the twins for help of any kind between detention, class, and…Quidditch. Mentally, he smacked himself.

"And how do you plan on getting the marbles into the punch of _only_ the first years?" None of them seemed to have thought that far; typical Gryffindors.

And, of course, Potter came up with the clever idea to use the hired help.

"Dobby!"

"Potter, what does my house elf have to do with this?" By the time he finished his sentence, the small elf was already grabbing at Harry's robes.

"Dobby, I told you…don't do that!"

"Dobby is sorry Harry Potter! Dobby will go iron his ears now!" The boy looked exasperated.

"No! No, Dobby, I order you to not harm yourself in any way, understood?" The elf nodded enthusiastically.

"Mister Harry Potter is a great wizard! Thank you, Mister Harry Potter!"

"Dobby…calm…okay, just…calm down, Dobby!" The elf looked up at him with big tennis ball eyes, and Draco fought the urge to laugh. When the elf had worked for the Malfoys, he acted very similarly, only he said everything he said in fear rather than appreciation and true devotion. The funny part was Potter despised anything to do with worship, be it to him or someone else, and that was extremely clear.

"Listen, Dobby. Is there any way we can give you twenty or so of these and you can slip them into _only_ first year goblets?"

"Why can they only be first years?" Draco leaned in to whisper to the twins as Harry dealt with the overzealous creature.

"There are two main spells combined in the marble," Fred began. "And together, they are actually, well, to put it lightly, they're unstable."

"They're not really supposed to be combined, you see," George elaborated.

"And in anyone below the age of eleven, the spells can cause memory loss." Catching the incredulous look on the blonde's face, he continued, "Not permanently, of course. It is reversible, but only by someone like Madame Pomfrey."

"The two spells are the Fidelis Inquirio and a temporary mind link spell."

"The mind link spell is set to play a pre-recorded thought to anyone who makes it past the Fidelis charm." Draco was beginning to see stars; how could two jokesters pull off something so complicated?

"And if they don't make it past the Fidelis charm?"

"They receive unfortunate side-effects of our Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes."

"Some of them untested," Fred inserted.

"You realize," Draco struggled between laughs, "that I should, as a Prefect, hand you over to a teacher for detention?"

"We don't much care. Breaking the rules…"

"…is half the fun. Tell Harry…"

"…the marbles are in this pouch…"

"…and give it to him when he's done with the elf. We'll…"

"…be off then. We'll see you later then, Malfoy." And the two brushed past with twin grins and looks of mischief.

Meanwhile, Harry was trying unsuccessfully to convince Dobby to not put his fingers in the oven. It would be a long day.

To say the plan went off without a hitch was an understatement.

Dinner could not have been more entertaining that night if Dumbledore had dressed in bright pink robes and begun tap dancing, and that would have been quite a sight.

Unsurprisingly, all the first year Slytherins had some sort of malady or odd ailment to deal with after dinner that night. Even a few Ravenclaws were down for the count, but the majority of the first years looked to the Gryffindor table and nodded, showing their support.

As for the teachers, there were mixed reactions. It was fairly apparent that Snape thought an attack on the students, even his own Slytherins, of this proportion, was worth a laugh or two, because he, along with Dumbledore and McGonagall, sat back and surveyed the scene with a mirthful glint in his eyes. He did not feel it was necessary to cure Voldemort's followers of mock-Chicken Pox.

Umbridge was absolutely flustered. To say she was furious was an understatement, and besides the fact that every one of the ten knew she would find a way to pin it to Harry, they couldn't help but comment on how she waddled about the Hall, looking for some way to cure the "poor children."

Laughing at the sight, Draco leaned back and surveyed not just the group, but the whole Hall and realized how his change had completely reworked his evaluations.

A few months ago, he would be one of those with the Wizard Wheezes, but now he was one of the ones administering the poison, so to speak. Months ago, he would have given anything to get back at the boy sitting to his left, to make him pay…detention, a firm stare-down, or the docking of points. Any of them would have satisfied him as long as _The-Boy-Who-Lived_ didn't get off the hook.

He loved revenge.

The thought caused his laughing to stop.

Months ago, he wouldn't be sitting at the Gryffindor table because his fellow Slytherins couldn't be trusted. Months ago, he would have relished the thought of torturing Potter. Maybe not killing, but he definitely would have been willing to have a duel or two and come out on top.

Months ago, he was a follower of Voldemort. Hermione had changed all that. She and the rest of their group had changed everything.

Harry, Ron, and even Cedric were as close of friends to him as Blaise, like brothers. Ginny was already someone he looked out for, someone he talked to, just because of Blaise and their dating, and he and Pansy had been friends since birth. Luna and Cho had shown they weren't the crazy and bookwormish girls, respectively, the school thought of them as, and they were his friends, like sisters.

People he hated only a few short months ago were his family now, people he would lay down his life to protect. People he would have to lay down his life for in the short years to come with Voldemort on the loose.

_The Rainstorm and the River are my Brothers; The Heron and the Otter are my Friends_

The line didn't mean much to him consciously, but somewhere, some part of him knew its relevance and the spell let it dissipate into a soft melody. Living with the same tune in his head hadn't been nearly as difficult as he thought it would be at first.

Because Hermione had helped him. His Hermione.

"Draco, I think we need to go," a low voice whispered. The musings were cut short as he realized Umbridge was stalking from the Slytherin table to his spot.

At first, he thought the hag was after Harry or Hermione—they were sitting there, too—but he looked to his left and to his right to find the rest of the group had already fled. Which meant it was time for him to make his disappearance as well.

"After you, Ronald." Minutes later, the ten were collapsed against the sofas of Hermione's Prefect Room, already retelling the wonderful fabrications of the still-naïve second years.

Professor Snape had a bad lesson and fed the students their own potions.

Umbridge was trying to get information.

Filch fed them Mrs. Norris' medicine.

Some of them became pretty wild and they settled into a quiet rhythm of watching the fire and telling jokes. It was here, Draco realized, that he truly belonged. He didn't fit into the cut-and-dry life his father had created for him, where he was Prince of the Slytherin Pure-bloods.

He belonged with Hermione. He belonged with his Brothers and Sisters. With his friends.

With the Resistance.

"So where is everyone meeting for Potter United?" Harry quirked an eyebrow at the blonde's comment.

"Really? We're back to the P.U. comments?" Draco shrugged. "They're supposed to meet at the Hog's Head on the next Hogsmeade trip about an hour into the trip, which gives us time to do a little shopping and whatnot before the meeting."

"What do we call ourselves?" Blaise was already waiting for an opportunity to get into the creative part; sometimes he was such a pansy. Draco snorted.

"Potter's Army," Cedric recommended, lazing by the scarlet rug on the floor with a sleeping Cho.

"Too expected."

"Luna's right; how about Dumbledore's Army? We fight for what he believes in," Ginny reasoned. The group smiled and everyone knew it was accepted.

They were Dumbledore's Army.

* * *

The next day brought an early snowfall, but no one found any objection; except Hermione.

Always the planner, she had holed herself up in the Library, checking up on curses, hexes, and charms they could teach at the meetings. Truly, she didn't think of it as a chore as the others did. Her free time, the study time others spent making charmed parchment planes and transfiguring their quills back into the birds they came from, went into actual studying. It was her solace.

As a student in primary school, where she learned her basic mathematics and sciences, Hermione had always been different. But, unlike Hogwarts, there was no magic. There were no fairytale boys to take her away from the drudgery and torment, and she spent her lunches in the loo with her lunch tray and the newest book from the school library.

Then, the letter had come. The letter that told her she could have a clean start at a school for people with the unique way of thinking she did, because, of course, the reason she was different at her Muggle school was because she was a witch.

But Hogwarts had been no different. There were the intelligent people, like her, who spent their afternoons in the loo, and then there were popular people, like Harry and Draco, who had the world wrapped around the tip of their pinkie fingers and didn't care enough to give the simple tug it would take to pull everyone else's world down.

On a level, Hermione knew what Draco was talking about when he didn't consider the gains and benefits the way he had before. In the beginning, on their very first train ride, Hermione could say she was no different from Draco.

The moment she had found out Harry Potter was in her year, she had prepared herself to be turned away. But then, lo and behold, he knew less about magic than she did, and she couldn't decide if that made her a bookworm or an asset for him to have around. She realized after she left their compartment that she had quickly blown any chance of being his friend right off the bat rather quickly, and it only made her keener to show off her skills.

Harry and Ron had never talked to her about the past. None of them discussed their home lives, schooling before Hogwarts, or even early Hogwarts days. None of them wanted to bring up the fact that once, Hermione had been considered one of _them_; someone they couldn't talk to because she was different.

Really, none of them had been different from Draco and the Voldemort followers at first.

Except Harry. Sure, he developed it later than the rest of them, but at some point, they all went through the Malfoy prejudice.

Draco distrusted Muggleborns, blood traitors, and Harry Potter.

Ron distrusted and disliked anyone from Slytherin.

Hermione distrusted Draco specifically until very recently.

Harry felt he couldn't trust anyone different from his group after awhile; they had to be good with a wand and willing to follow him blindly.

But they all got over it. Together, they had combated the prejudice and become a family, all conveniently forgetting that, once, they had hated each other; typical teenagers.

When Hermione brought herself to actually put her quill to the parchment, Madame Pince had waved the candles to their usual places, one landing next to her workspace. Sometimes she forgot that time still passed while she was thinking.

_Three…two…one…_

"Hermione!!!" She shook her head.

_At least in a time of disarray and confusion, I can always count on my boys to keep a schedule._

* * *

Increasingly often, Hermione found herself thinking about everything. Her thoughts dusted themselves from shelves she had long placed at the back of her mind, but, even as she questioned why she was thinking them, she thought them.

Human nature is to be suspicious and to fight for oneself. Wizard or muggle, humans have a trait of self-preservation. Well, most humans. Harry seemed to like being the exception to a lot of rules.

So how is it that one in every one million people succeeds in becoming tyrants and dictators? It is a small number, to be sure, but regardless, if people acted on instincts at eliminated threats like that from the get-go, could the number dwindle to one in every billion…maybe less?

If Dumbledore had seen through Voldemort from the beginning, could the last century be cleaner than it was? Less bloodstained?

She asked Draco one night, which, of course, culminated in an argument. Lately, those had become as common as Hermione's random thoughts, but they always ended the same way they began…with someone saying just the right thing to make the other apologize, or, in the case of fighting, to set the other off.

Tonight, Draco lit the fuse.

"You act as if everything from the last fifty years hasn't mattered!" The tears in her eyes burned, causing more tears to spill forth. "_'There's nothing we can do, so let's just move on?'_ Is that what you think is going to help the war?"

"No, Hermione, I don't! But I don't think us thinking about this every night and arguing over it is going to get us everywhere!

"Do I think Dumbledore could have stopped this early on? You really want my honest opinion? No, I don't, because that man sees the good in everyone until it's too late, and he's managed to sucker Potter into thinking the same way! He promoted peace and house unity, which is just an excuse to try and save the poor Slytherin souls who, might I add, are far too self-absorbed to absorb anything beyond the fact that Dumbledore's a coot. I may have been wrong about a lot before hanging out with you guys, and my opinion of his beliefs may have changed, but his methods are still as ancient as anything else that man thinks!"

Hermione could feel the clip holding her thick hair come loose as she violently shook her head in disagreement.

"Dumbledore's brilliant! He's going to help Harry win this war, doubted or not." Tripping over the cushion she had earlier kicked off the couch, she stumbled to the portrait, but a jet of blue light from behind her told her it wouldn't budge until Draco called their argument over.

But trying was easier than looking at him and waiting for him to make that call.

How had they gone from the perfect, loving couple to fighting worse than when they were enemies?

"I don't doubt he can help Precious Potter," Draco spat, resorting to first-year nicknames. "I doubt his methods are doing it fast enough and efficiently enough to make a difference. And I apologize, but I don't understand how surveying the disaster Dumbledore has made of the past can help save our future."

"Those who ignore the past are doomed to repeat it!"

"And those who study it are doomed to know it's repeating," Draco quipped, raising an eyebrow. "Don't use one-liner clichés on me, darling; they're all pointless lines thought up by muggles who thought they could change the world. A small group of people can't change anything, especially when led by a futile leader. Saint Potter may be our only chance, but it's going to take more than a few schoolyard chums to take the bastard down."

"Oh, really?" The unusually sarcastic bite in her tone made him visibly flinch, but both held their ground as they had done every night this week that Hermione brought up a useless topic, as Draco was so fond of calling them. "Then what is it going to take, _Malfoy?_ Is it going to take you, riding up on your shiny toy broomstick, telling Voldemort he looks like an idiotic remake from a horror movie? Or will it take the Terrible 10, telling every person they know that the world is in danger and it needs their help?

"A small group of people is the only thing to every change anything, and right now, our small group is changing the school. Don't you understand? Small is relative. To us, ten is small. To London, Hogwarts is small. To the world, London is small. But words and actions spread. Our small group has a chance to _start_ the change, and we do it by looking at our ancestors, repeating their victories and learning from their mistakes so that future generations don't have to look at ours anytime soon."

"So it all comes back full circle," Draco sneered. "You never wanted to talk about Dumbledore's mistakes or follies, just the concept of past versus the future, and, now that Dumbledore's been insulted by your boyfriend, you've got to defend him…or at least turn the subject away, right?"

"Shut it, Malfoy. My only question was the hypothetical "what if" that everyone has asked before. _'What if Dumbledore had acted sooner.'_ If you want to turn this into a discussion table for every mistake the man has ever made, to prove he's not perfect, then fine; lay it out. But listen to me first." She took a few steps closer, making her plan and her opinions reality at the same time.

"Dumbledore's mistakes, as I know, simplified. He found and taught today's worst mass-murderer. He allowed the Potters to change secret keepers, getting them killed and leaving Harry an orphan. He left Harry with relatives that stifled his magic and made it that much harder for him to catch up so he can one day save us. He hired Quirrel, a mad-man with Voldemort in the back of his head, and left Harry to him because he didn't realize what Quirrel was in time. He didn't figure out Ginny was playing puppet for Voldemort second year and let your father run him out of Hogwarts. He didn't figure out Scabbers was Peter Pettigrew. He didn't stop Harry from competing in the Triwizard Tournament. He didn't protect Harry from the dementors. He let Fudge somehow let Umbridge in.

"Now let's check up on his remedies, shall we? First, everything he's done before Voldemort was even a thought. He saved Severus and made him a spy, keeping him from certain death. He allowed the Potters to change secret keepers, without which, Voldemort would not have been destroyed that night and there would be no savior. He made sure Harry had enough friends to keep him curious about magic and keep pushing him towards his destiny. He knew of Harry's mother's protection spell and was confident he would not be killed the night of Quirrel. He made sure Harry had back-up going into the Chamber. He gave Harry a father figure and guardian to watch him through the year and help him rein in his trouble making. He's protected Harry since the Triwizard as best as possible, and he saved Harry from Azkaban.

"Have I forgotten anything?" By this time, Draco had dropped his wand, which Hermione plucked before it could hit the ground, and, while still fuming, he was silent, chewing her words.

"Oh, yeah, his most recent and, in my current personal opinion, his biggest mistake…trusting you, it seems." She unlocked the portrait and took half a step through, leaving the wand on the side table. "By the way, we're over. I'm not talking to you, save for classes, and, unlike the silent treatment or cold shoulder, this one's not disappearing. Those are meant for significant others who've done something wrong, and, as you're no longer my significant other, that's not a problem anymore!" The ironic and sarcastic cheerfulness she used with the last line cut through Draco harder than any word she'd said that night or the slamming of the door.

It was minutes later, after he'd sunk to his knees, that he realized he had been crying.

* * *

As Draco sat in the middle of the room, Hermione curled herself into the corner between the portrait and the wall, doing the same. Hot tears burned a trail down her cheeks, and, while she knew her face was a mess, she couldn't bring herself to dry any of them. The wetness soothed her, and she found herself wishing it was raining so she could drown in the bliss of the cold, cutting water.

Maybe this was how it was supposed to be. Maybe they had rushed into a relationship, and their friendship should have remained only that. The first few weeks had been the happiest and most worrying of her life, but she couldn't help but notice how all they did was argue, as friends and as enemies.

Pushing herself off the ground, she found the strength to hold herself up until she got to the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Semper Paratus."

"Hermione, dear, what's wrong?" But the girl shook her head and ran through the opening, hoping Harry and Ron were already asleep.

For once, her prayers were answered, and she fell into her bed, asleep before her head touched the pillow.

When she woke up, a letter was on her nightstand.

* * *

_Hermione,_

_I know writing this directly after an argument, especially one of the magnitude from last night, is pointless. Odds are as soon as you realize just who this letter is from, you'll pitch it into the fire, desperate to rid yourself of any evidence of me, and there is nothing I can do to change that but hope to fight the odds once more. I am sorry I hurt you last night. Unfortunately, our quiet conversation escalated somewhere along the way to full-blown arguing and I wish that It had not, or I might be telling you all of this at breakfast, where I will probably not see you._

_First, I think it is important for you to know precisely where I stand regarding the war. I am pro-Potter, so to speak. I do not believe certain individuals should have more rights than others based on blood or that genocide is the answer to a problem that does not even exist. I believe Voldemort is nothing more than the muggle Hitler from fifty years ago, but with more power and less people aware of his existence, which makes him more dangerous. I also believe Harry is our greatest hope for defeating him, __**not**__ our only hope. Understand that._

_I believe Albus Dumbledore has accomplished more in his lifetime than any other wizard on the planet today, from his discoveries to his victories over dark wizards and witches alike. He is clever, tricky, and willing to make sacrifices, which makes him dangerous to friend and foe alike. This is where I disagree in his methods._

_He believes Harry to be an invincible force because of the power he gives to aid him. He is a believer in the muggle saying _that which does not kill me makes me stronger_ and he takes it literally. Harry has not actually lost anything yet but for a few freedoms, but he certainly makes up for it in liberties granted from the Headmaster; you know what I'm talking about._

_And it is these beliefs that will fail him in the final battle. Harry needs more than sheer dumb luck and the knowledge gained from your escapades. He needs Severus to teach him advanced potions and Dark Arts; __**not**__ defense. Harry will need to know how to combat and use some darker spells if he hopes to defeat Voldemort and not merely escape as he has done these last four years. Priori Incantatum will not work if Voldemort acquires another wand, as I'm sure he is doing as we speak…or do not, as the case seems to be._

_Do not misunderstand; without Dumbledore, everything is futile. However, Dumbledore acts as much a dictator as Voldemort or Fudge or anyone else, even if for a different side._

_These are my beliefs. I have my own, separate from others, as I'm sure you do. Although you do not feel you have done anything wrong, I am going to forgive you for something you may not have thought of. I forgive you for trying to push your beliefs onto me. A friendly dispute now and then over these things is entirely normal, but for such a strong believer in individuality and rights, you seem to have no problem attempting to get everyone to conform to your line of thinking. Why? Because _you_ think you're right, and anyone who thinks another way is wrong._

_Even as you sit there, reading this, thinking _'crap, he's got a point,' _you still ultimately think you're right. I'm not saying you're wrong, and I'm not saying you're right. I'm saying the world has all different shades of gray, and millions of shades of color. There is no black or white, and there's hardly a line between the two. Both of us fall between the two extremes, as do Voldemort and Dumbledore, though they're far closer than any of us could ever hope to get._

_I love you, Hermione Granger. I love how passionate you get about anything and everything you do. I love how you protect those you love with a ferocity equal to Potter, but that you think things through without rashness that, unfortunately, Potter and I possess. I love that you've made me realize I can change and that there are people who want to help me change, that I can make a difference._

_But I hate your method of punishment, and sometimes, you're line of thinking. You're one of the kindest people I know, and I hate that I hurt you, so I hate myself. I hate that it seems we've reverted to enemies, but most of all, I hate that I love you._

_Because hating you was so much easier than dealing with the racing pain I get every time I realize the only reason I haven't surrendered myself to Voldemort is because taking off my ring to numb that pain would hurt you._

_But, as evidence shows from last night, it wouldn't really hurt you all that much, would it?_

_If you are still deciding whether or not to come to breakfast, do not worry; I will not be there. I will avoid contact in all classes, but I will show up in Hogsmeade and future dates. Wouldn't want to deprive the group of my pigheadedness and lack of a correct opinion, would I?_

_Sincerely (and with as much love as you'll allow),_

_Draco Lucius Malfoy_

* * *

True to his letter's word, he didn't attend breakfast that morning. Instead, he stood, glaring at himself in the mirror, trying to figure out where everything had gone wrong. When arguing with his father, he could not say anything contrary to his father's word. To do so would have resulted in punishment, just like anything else he did wrong, which always seemed to be everything. Now, his inability to know when to stop in an argument had pushed away the girl he loved and left him alone but for Pansy and Blaise. Wonderful.

Falling to the ground, he berated himself; how could he have pushed away the one thing that meant the most in the world to him?

And ever since she left the night before, the music in his head was overpowering him, threatening to crush him the way it had at first, now that Hermione disliked him all over again.

Perfect. So he was back to square one. Well, not quite square one, but pretty darn close.

"Hermione," he sighed. "What is it going to take to get you back?"

* * *

**A/N: VampireAlchemist: **I cried when I wrote that...oh, Hermione and Draco, why did you break up?

**Draco:** ...

**Hermione:** ...

**Both:** You act like it's our fault!

**VampireAlchemist:** It is! If Hermione hadn't brought up the topic and Draco hadn't argued with her...

**Draco:** If you hadn't thought of this problem...

**Hermione:** ...and written it down...

**Draco:** ...none of this would have happened!

**VampireAlchemist:** If you two weren't so argumentative by nature, I wouldn't have thought of the problem in the first place.

**Hermione:** We're not argumentative!

**VampireAlchemist:** Oh, really? _(laughs maniacally)_

**Both:** _(sigh)_ She's lost it again. _(looks at audience)_ Please Review.

**Next Chapter:**_ A Neverending Circle_

* * *


	10. A Neverending Circle

**A/N:** Please remember to hop on over to my profile and vote for a title for my 'New Story'. I'll choose the title when I'm done with that story, so you've got plenty of time!

And now, Chapter 10!

_

* * *

And We Are All Connected To Each Other In A Circle, In A Hoop That Never Ends

* * *

_

In 1967, some obscure muggle in the States wanted to find the relationship between people, so he gave 100 people in Kansas a package. Those people had to mail the package to someone they knew in Boston. If they didn't know anyone, they were to send it to someone else they knew with the same instructions. When the person in Boston received the package, they were to send it to the original person in Kansas. When all the packages were back, the muggle averaged the amount of people it took, coming up with 5.6. Rounding up, he called this experiment the Six Degrees of Separation.

The basic theory is you are six handshakes away from your perfect lover, the Minister of Magic, or Harry Potter.

Draco already knew all three all too well in his opinion. Knowing Harry Potter, in the boy's own words, was bloody overrated, and Fudge was as much of an idiot as the toad he'd sent to Hogwarts. And his perfect love hated him.

Six Degrees of Separation could go six ways to hell.

Sighing, Draco rolled over. He was positive, due to its muggle origin, this was what Hermione meant by "hoop that never ends," but he was more concerned with another hoop.

If he didn't fix the song by Christmas, a few weeks, he would go insane, but the song made him think about Hermione, which would drive him insane anyways.

Deeming it time to dress, he looked in the mirror.

Two months later (had it really only been two months?), she was still letting him keep her Prefect rooms, afraid for him going to the dungeons alone. Even when thoroughly cross with him, she didn't throw him to the wolves, or snakes as it were. It made him want to hate her, but it really made him love her, crushing him further.

At this rate, he'd be insane by breakfast.

His unhappy reflection glared back at him, a mocking image that told him he was just as ugly outside as he felt inside.

The mirror-Malfoy smirked.

"Any brilliant ideas to get her back yet?"

"Seeing as you're my most inner self and you're asking me, I'd hazard a guess and say no, I do not." The mirror laughed.

"Did I say I had no ideas? I just asked if you thought about one, maybe trying to jog an idea you do have."

"She doesn't care."

"Are you trying to get pity points, then? Your appearance would certainly warrant it." It was true.

His blonde, usually gelled, hair was almost as disheveled as Potter's mop. Sleep was evidently missing as red-ringed silver eyes, dulled by fatigue, glared at the mirror as though it was at fault.

Draco had resigned himself to another day of staring at the back of her head, as he had been doing for three days. Three days and he had been reduced to this.

Then he saw the snowy white owl, hooting from her perch upon the kitchen counter, rolled parchment in her talons.

Hesitantly, he took the parchment after finding Hedwig a pellet from his bag for Skylark, the eagle his parents had bought him. The same eagle they'd taken; he wondered where she was.

Once again, he realized he'd allowed himself to be distracted.

_Malfoy—_

_This note is to inform you your presence is requested in the library during breakfast for an emergency prefects' meeting._

—_H. Granger_

All he could think was, "Hermione." In hindsight, he should have realized if there was ever an emergency meeting, the Heads would send the request, not Hermione.

He was glad he didn't think about it.

He arrived to find Hermione, alone, reading _Romeo & Juliet_.

"Where is everyone?" He asked, forcing himself to look her in the eyes, as a proud Malfoy would, not the love-struck fool he had become.

"Here." He was confused but she waited patiently for him to catch on. It didn't take long.

"What…what…" He hated how he sounded and hardened his voice. "What more can you do to me, Hermione? Or are we already back to Grang-…" He didn't get to finish, but Hermione, lips pressed to his, hands grasping his face, was much better than any unfinished sentence. But why was she doing this?

He braced himself for the hurt he was about to cause them both and gently pushed her off and took a step back. Guiltily, he looked away, not able to look her in the face this time.

"Draco? What's wrong? Your note…" She trailed off, searching his eyes for an explanation, any, to tell her why he wasn't responding to her.

"My note," Draco sighed. "Hermione, we just broke up three days ago. You really already want to be back with me? Surely, being the intelligent girl I love, you understand how unhealthy that is for any relationship."

"Draco, I never meant it. I was angry. I would have said anything to get back at you."

"For doing what, Hermione? What did I do to warrant you being angry with me? I disagreed with your opinion."

"I know, Draco, and I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking straight. But you know me; I defend those I love and those I believe in. What was I supposed to do when you started insulting Dumbledore? Laugh and agree?"

"You should have respected my opinion. Why couldn't we just disagree quietly and talk? Admit it, our conversations always end in an argument, and, frankly, I'm amazed I didn't end up with a black eye worse than third year."

This wasn't going the right way; Hermione was crying and he was ready to turn and bolt. Weren't they supposed to be getting back together?

"Draco, please! You've no idea what I've put myself through these last three days, trying to ignore you, desperate not to turn around and kiss you." Tears were running down her cheeks and Draco couldn't suppress the urge to reach out and stop the tears with his thumb, letting his hand linger on her face.

"I do know, Hermione. It's the same as what I have been dealing with. I can't say we need to take a break, because I don't think it would be conducive to what remains of our relationship, especially considering we've just had a three day break and the two of us feel the need to jump off the Astronomy tower." She attempted a laugh, but it came out as a hiccup.

"So what happens now?" They sat in silence for awhile, both trying to come up with something.

"I think," he finally answered, "a break would be good, but not the type we've just had. We can still hang out with the group, hang out with each other, do things we have since the start of term, but not necessarily dating."

"Like, an open relationship?" Draco shook his head thoughtfully.

"I guess if you find someone you'd rather be with neither of us has any influence over the choice, but it's not what I meant. We rushed into our relationship; hating each other for four years does not a good romantic relationship make. That's where our problem began, whether we knew it or not. We need to take time to remember why we became friends. Then we need to remember why we began dating. We've both forgotten why it was we liked each other."

Hermione nodded sadly, picking up her bag and the plate of bacon, eggs, and toast on the table.

"I felt bad I made you skip breakfast," she explained. "Don't let Madame Pince see it. When you're done, it will disappear. I have to get to Defense." She kept her head low as she left the library, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her robe.

"Brilliant, Malfoy, just brilliant," he berated himself. "You've always been the self-absorbed, selfish Slytherin; why change? Because you fucking fell in love, great!"

He continued mumbling through Charms.

**

* * *

**

"I can't bloody stand this!" Ron exclaimed at the breakfast table. The other eight members of the normal ten had stayed behind at breakfast, preferring to talk in semi-privacy. They gathered at the Gryffindor table, complaining.

"The two of them are infuriating! Can't they just realize they're perfect for each other and get on with it?" The other redhead was a force to be reckoned with when she was pissed.

Cho and Cedric, very soft spoken individuals, nodded grimly. Neither knew enough about Hermione and Draco to give their two cents.

Blaise and Pansy, on the other hand, knew enough about Draco to know he was being thick-headed.

"Every other time he's pissed someone off, he never fails to get in their face or apologize, whichever one he thinks will accomplish his end goal faster."

"He knows he should apologize, he just won't do it!"

"Actually," Harry interjected, cutting Pansy off from furthering her rant, "from what Hermione's told me, it seems to be more her fault. Not only did she start the argument, she pretty much ripped Draco a new one for semi-bashing Dumbledore, then told him they were over and stormed off. Then, she didn't respond to his apology/forgiveness note for three days. She sent him a note this morning so they could meet in the library."

"So if it's Hermione's fault…," Luna began.

"…and Draco's already forgiven her…" Ron always was the slower one.

"WHY HAVEN'T THEY GOTTEN BACK TOGETHER?" Everyone was at least five seats away from Ginny at this point.

"Merlin, they're thick." Cedric shook his head.

"They just need time," Cho finally spoke up. "They need to remember why they fell in love with each other. A relationship means nothing if you don't remember why you started it, and after four years of hating one another, it's going to be harder for them to remember than the rest of us. Off the top of your heads, how many of you can name ten things about the person you're with that draw them to you, other than "we're friends" or "they're hot"?" Seven hands went up.

"How long do you think it would take Hermione and Draco to come up with those things?" No one answered. "It's because they've spent four years pointing out each other's flaws. For instance, Draco hasn't been her friend for four years; he doesn't realize that Hermione is a logical thinker, does not give Harry and Ron homework answers because she believes in equality and fairness and the circle of life, and that she protects those she loves with words and force."

"And Hermione doesn't realize that Draco hates seeing anything that can't defend itself in trouble, would apologize and be embarrassed a hundred times before one of his friends was put in danger, and believes those who make mistakes do deserve second chances," Pansy detailed.

"Because for the past four years, Draco has seen the bookworm tag-along to the Potter Party," Cedric explained.

"And Hermione has seen the cold, conceited, selfish Death Eater in training," Blaise affirmed.

Ginny was starting to wind down and began realizing maybe jumping back into their relationship wouldn't help, and Ron and Harry were beginning to appease themselves with the knowledge that, if Cho and the rest of their group could figure this out, maybe Hermione could, too.

It would surprise them all to discover it had been Draco's suggestion all along.

"So what do we do?" Ginny finally asked.

"We make sure they stay friends," Luna supplied.

"And we ensure that neither jumps headfirst into shallow water," Harry stated firmly. The group nodded and said their good-byes before heading off to first period, all confident in the knowledge that, however long it took, the two would be back together again.

**

* * *

**

"Of all the stupid bloody things…" Hermione was still muttering under her breath when the object of her insults stopped in front of her desk.

"If you have something to say, Miss Granger, please share with the class." The sickly sweet voice made her want to vomit. Remembering Harry's detentions, she revised her line of thinking.

"Just that the way the author is incorrect in his line of thinking," Hermione said clearly, although that had not been what she was thinking. "If we were to defend ourselves against a werewolf, feeding them the potion would do no good unless they had not transformed yet, and as the people who are werewolves try to keep quiet, odds are we are more likely to see them transformed before not. Therefore, we cannot use the potion." Umbridge looked floored as she nodded and gave her toady smile again.

"Very good, Miss Granger. Five points." She could see Draco, Harry, Ron, Blaise, and Pansy struggling to keep their laughter in. "Before we continue, I'm sure some of you have seen the posters outside the Great Hall. They are aimed primarily at your year and those above you.

"I have begun the Inquisitorial Squad. We are looking for members," here she looked at the Slytherins, especially those who were friendly with Harry (i.e. Draco, Pansy, and Blaise), "who are willing to join. You have the same rights as teachers, including doling out detentions and taking points. We encourage Prefects to join, as well as those who would like to pursue a future with the Ministry; Minister Fudge looks kindly on those who are law-abiding as students.

"That is all. Continue your twenty-four inch essays on the dangers of all half-breeds." All those in the class who knew of Lupin and liked him glared at the toad woman behind her back.

They all knew; Umbridge had to be dealt with soon. Dumbledore's Army needed to start as soon as possible. Good thing the next Hogsmeade was less than twenty-four hours away.

**

* * *

**

Dinner, in his mind, was very quiet. Everyone seemed to be glancing at him, wondering what was going on between him and Hermione, but he simply picked moodily at his potatoes. His friends didn't fail to notice that his bad mood seemed directly correlated with Hermione's absence.

No one was quite sure how to act around him; Pansy and Blaise tried to engage him in the conversation, but he replied only when necessary and did nothing to contribute, so they eventually gave up, and no one else knew how to include him without setting him off.

He told himself he didn't miss her; that she was just studying in the library and he had seen her all day in classes, but none of it comforted him, because he did miss her. It was as simple as that.

Thank god she came barreling through the doors during dessert, grinning as though Christmas had come early.

"Draco, I've found it!" Raising one eyebrow, he waited for her to elaborate; she did not disappoint. "The reversal spell for the charm I cast on you—the song?" He nodded.

"I found it a few days ago, when we were still arguing." If he didn't think she would slap him for it, he would have laughed at her spluttering.

"What? W-why didn't you tell me?" Draco shrugged, standing next to her.

"You cast the spell on me for a reason, Hermione, and I didn't want to get rid of it yet. It's not driving me horribly insane, and if we get rid of it, I won't know if I've actually figured it out or not. Besides, when I found the spell, you were still pissed off at me, and I would have needed you to do it." She conceded that point to him.

"You still could have told me!" Shaking his head, he pulled his bag over his shoulder.

"I didn't want you to reverse it. Hermione, I want to change, and this song is doing more for me than any heartfelt cookie-cutter speeches Harry or Dumbledore could give. It's not telling me I'm wrong, it's explaining it. Everyone on the light side always claims we are all equal, that there is no difference besides lack of magic.

"This spell, it's taught me why I should switch sides, not just that I should. I don't want to get rid of it." Looking thoughtful, he added, "Although I never want to hear it again once I get rid of it. I'll see you in the Great Hall tomorrow; Hogsmeade, remember?" He grinned and kissed her hand before walking out, heading for the dungeons to talk to his godfather; Voldemort had been too quiet and Severus still had not given him an idea on how to fake a plan.

They were running out of time, and they needed to jump to offensive.

* * *

"What do you mean, _Dumbledore has no ideas?_" Draco was beyond furious. It had been at least two or three weeks; the madman should have had something figured out by now. Dangerous or not, Severus said the Headmaster always had a back-up plan in case of emergencies.

"I mean, Dumbledore has no way of delivering you, Pansy, and Blaise to the Dark Lord without all four of us ending up dead, and he still needs me. He knows I will not leave until the three of you are safe, which means he either loses all or none of us, and right now, the none of us option involves me losing my position as a spy."

"Polyjuice three Death Eater kids, knock them out, and say Dumbledore needs you back at the castle." He said it so matter-of-factly that Severus could not resist rolling his eyes; if only everything in this damned war was so simple.

"I think the Headmaster is thinking more along the lines of no more fighting after this." Silence was the primary noise for a fair few minutes.

"He can't be serious. Harry is nowhere near ready for something like that!"

"I have advised the Dark Lord that his most opportune moment would be a Death Eater attack on Hogsmeade, because I will be unable to slip any of you out during the year due to Ministry interference. It seems," Severus gave a wry smirk, "the Dark Lord is realizing Ministry ignorance is just as aggravating as a competent Ministry."

"Did he agree?" Suddenly, Draco realized his godfather was looking more worn and aged as of late.

"Luckily. But there is still the matter that the Ministry would never allow the next Hogsmeade trip to be cancelled. You will have to keep close to Potter; the Headmaster will be giving him an emergency portkey." Draco nodded; he had planned on it anyways.

"What about the other students?" Severus shook his head.

"To give them all portkeys would alert them to the fact that something is wrong. They would all stay back at the castle and the Dark Lord would know I told them of the attack; I would be killed instantly. Dumbledore is also keeping me here to watch for miscreant first and second years," Severus sniffed. "It is nothing new; he always wanted to ensure I would not have to be put in the position of choosing a side should something like this happen."

"Pansy and Blaise, though?"

"I am trying desperately trying to get the Headmaster to give the three of you and Potter, Granger, and Weasley each your own portkey, should you separate to enjoy different things, but he seems convinced you will all be together." Here, he threw the blonde a sharp look, daring him to tell him why the Headmaster would be able to predict such a thing. Draco ducked his head, suppressing a grin; so Dumbledore had discovered his newly formed army that had not even had its first meeting.

"Regardless, it would put my mind at ease. You should stop coming down here, though, Draco. Your peers may discover we are still close enough where I should be able to take you to him; I do not wish to seem as well-connected as I am."

_Connected_. The word struck something in him, but there were more important things to discuss than the song; his godfather was in danger because Draco and his friends had associated with the wrong sorts, which was rather ironic, considering that had been what he called the people he was now hanging out with back in first year.

"Just remember, Draco, that everything you do has consequences. You are connected to this, no matter what choice you make, as with everyone else. Everyone is influenced by others; your choices affect them and theirs affect you." Draco nodded, suppressing another grin when he realized Severus had helped him with the hex; another line, gone.

"Thanks, Sevvie."

"Brat."

"Thank you."

"Good night, Draco."

"Good luck," Draco replied, substituting for 'good night' when he saw Severus grasp his forearm. A quick nod, and the man was off to requisition a portkey from the Headmaster; he still had to make it to his meetings.

"Good luck," he whispered again, heading for Hermione's Head rooms.

Tomorrow would be crucial; they needed to recruit fast before Umbridge or Voldemort got much more powerful. Only a few more hours until Hogsmeade.

* * *

**A/N:**_VampireAlchemist:_ Well, that went well!

_Draco:_ We're still not back together, you twit!

_VampireAlchemist:_ You know, young man, you're lucky you're a main character.

_Hermione:_ You wouldn't really kill him...

_VampireAlchemist: _You're right.

_Both:_ (triumphant smiles)

_VampireAlchemist:_ Maybe a little bit of permanent maiming, though...

_Draco:_ Please Review!

_VampireAlchemist:_ I think you're quite finished, Malfoy. You've been in far too many drabbles.

_Draco:_ The people love me! And to prove it, I'll bet you get 10 reviews!

_VampireAlchemist:_ Deal.

_Draco:_ Cool...wait, what? I didn't mean a real...

_VampireAlchemist:_ In order to save Draco, everybody, I need at least 10 reviews on chapter 10. Save him or the story's over!

_All:_ Please Review!

**Next Chapter:**_ Wolf Cries and Eagles_


	11. Wolf Cries and Eagles

**A/N:** Alas, nine reviews. I guess it was a tad too much to hope, wasn't it?

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* * *

Have You Ever Heard The Wolf Cry To The Blue Corn Moon Or Let The Eagle Tell You Where He's Been?_

* * *

"My friends, today we are here in honor of a brave boy and a tragic loss. Draco Lucius Malfoy, age fifteen, was found dead last night in the Astronomy Tower." Albus Dumbledore looked out across the sea of students, dressed in black, and the black banners hanging down around him.

"A note was found beside the body that my fellow professors and I believe you need to hear." He unrolled the parchment.

_I told you this would happen if I didn't get more reviews._

"It seems Mister Malfoy was the victim of a depressed, out-of-her-mind authoress who did not get the required number of reviews about the last chapter of our story. Mister Malfoy died a painless death, but it is we who bare the pain." Hermione burst out wailing.

"Why? Why didn't more people simply say 'good job?' It couldn't have been so hard!"

"My dear, Hermione, we are the victims of a thing called Authoress Revenge. And you," the Headmaster paused to look at, not the audience, but the reader, "are the victim of a cruel joke."

* * *

**A/N:** Sorry, but we've all got to get our kicks, somewhere. I actually did not receive nine...or ten...I got 6. Bit too hopeful was I? Ah, well, I suppose you'd like to read the actual chapter now? Anyways, please enjoy the REAL Chapter 11 and don't judge me too harshly.

* * *

_Have You Ever Heard The Wolf Cry To The Blue Corn Moon Or Let The Eagle Tell You Where He's Been?_

* * *

Harry leaned in to whisper to Hermione.

"Are you sure we're at the right meeting?" She shot him a look; surely he couldn't be that dense. "I'm just saying that there's no way this many people support me or believe Voldemort is back! That's like saying this many people accept lemon drops because they actually like them!"

Ron and Ginny sniggered from the side, but Draco was thoroughly confused; of course he had never been to the Headmaster's office, so he had never been offered one of the over-sweetened treats.

"Harry, I can honestly say all these people are working in your favor. I'll open the floor for you, but you're going to be the one that wins them over in the end." She knew he didn't do well with public speaking; that was why she was behind him, backing him up, with Ginny, Ron, and Draco.

The Hogs' Head owner was glaring at them, and the only other patron in the bar was a cloaked man, knocking back Firewhiskeys faster than Hermione could count, but besides them, the entire place was filled with Hogwarts' students years four through seven; first through third years had decided they wanted no part in fighting Voldemort, whether they were there or not.

"Alright, so you all know why we're here; we need a Defense Against the Dark Arts class that teaches us actual defense and not just theory. I've been asked to tell you that if you're here to hear a first-hand recount of what happened the graveyard, you may as well leave now, because there will be absolutely no discussion on that topic."

No one left their seats; it seemed they were all there for the reason of listening to Harry, although Cho had a friend next to her that was looking rather suspicious.

Hermione continued to run through basic introductions, such as reasons they needed such important classes, advantages of learning the curriculum, and disadvantages of not doing so. As she did so, Draco surveyed the crowd, some of which did not look thrilled to see him on stage. But, of course, who could blame them?

Until a few months ago, he would have been trying to have this little meeting exposed.

The majority of the fourth years were Gryffindors, Ginny's friends, and there was not a single Slytherin in the bunch. A few Hufflepuffs were looking around concerned about being caught; the badgers weren't necessarily the bravest of the bunch. The Ravenclaws seemed to be there purely for the knowledge, which made much more sense than why the Hufflepuffs had come; they couldn't be there for defiance, knowledge, or some sort of advantage, as that was Slytherin reasoning. The only logical reason was they were loyal; loyal to Dumbledore or Potter.

Either way, more of them meant less on Umbridge's and, worse, Voldemort's.

He didn't recognize any sixth or seventh years, minus the Weasley twins and their friend Lee Jordan—Gryffindors of course.

He was mildly surprised to see Daphne Greengrass looking around, wondering if she should be concerned she was the only Slytherin that did not hang out with the Potter crew on a regular basis, but she didn't seem to be trying to collect information; a spy was much more conspicuous—especially a teenage spy.

Rather than shifting her eyes in a far from discrete manner and watching Potter or anyone up on stage, she seemed to be preparing herself for an attack, despite the fact that Hogwarts students were not to use magic on these trips. No, Daphne was truly interested in joining; it seemed not all of his housemates were out to destroy Potter, although if anyone from his house found out, she'd most likely be in a large amount of danger.

Cho and Luna were, of course, present, along with a few other Ravenclaws, one of which was currently checking out Hermione; he had to restrain himself from acting on the sudden impulse to throttle the boy—Terry Boot, a voice told him. Cedric was the only Hufflepuff Draco actually knew, although there were two other girls he didn't know.

The Gryffindors consisted of all the Weasleys attending Hogwarts, Parvati and Lavender (Padma was sitting with the Ravenclaw crowd), Dean Thomas, who was looking rather lonely without Seamus, and Neville Longbottom. It seemed Seamus Finnegan still was the only fifth year Gryffindor not meeting Harry's eye these days.

Not that Harry minded; unless they were willing to accept Voldemort's return, he didn't want to hear what they had to say about his mental state.

All in all, it had been a very good turn-out, though whether everyone attended the actual meetings was yet to be seen. Suddenly, Harry rose from his seat, looking rather uncomfortable; it seemed Hermione was finished and it was his turn to take the stage.

"How'd I do?" Hermione looked as though she was saving her nerves for when she was not in the spotlight. Draco felt bad he had only heard the first few sentences.

"Brilliant. Loved the bit about Umbridge being an incompetent toad that a second year could best in logic." She blushed; that part had been said under her breath when someone had asked her a question, but Draco was the only one close enough to hear the insult.

"Shut up," she scowled. "Let's just hope they're as willing to listen to Harry as they were to me." Surveying the crowd, the two of them listened to Harry finish stammering the two paragraphs of his semi-rehearsed speech.

"Look, I'm not the best at speaking; I don't quite enjoy having all of you staring at me. To be honest, it reminds me of the reporters and cameras, all eager to catch me doing something stupid, and I hate all the fame. But if you come to these meetings, you're not going to hear me talk, trying to convince you to do this. At that point, I shouldn't have to convince you to do this.

"All that matters is you want to learn what the Ministry doesn't think we should. Think of it this way; the Ministry is restricting what we learn, which means they're afraid of something. I hardly think they're afraid of us, so what else is there to be afraid of? Whether or not Voldemort is back, there are other dark forces out there, such as dementors and werewolves—ones that aren't tame and that don't take the Wolfsbane Potion like Remus Lupin.

"Whether you believe me about Voldemort or not, many of his Death Eaters are out there. Whether you believe me or not, we need to know how to defend ourselves, and theory isn't going to do a bit of good when a dementor is trying to liplock." A few giggles from the fourth years came, but the majority remained silent; Harry was gathering steam.

The stuttering had stopped and he was starting to really say what was on his mind. He wasn't sitting here trying to convince a group of students to learn to fight or make them believe Voldemort had returned. He was trying to make them see it was their choice, and make them see that the Ministry shouldn't have control over what they learned, and he was giving them all the facts so they could decide for themselves.

"Bravo, Potter," Draco murmured. "I think you've just about won them over." Hermione smiled at him, and he momentarily forgot to listen as his heart hammered against his chest.

"You can leave after I'm done, although we'll need you to sign something to make sure you never speak of this meeting. You can return to classes with Umbridge and pretend this never happened, and pretend that theory is going to get you somewhere. Maybe you won't ever have to meet a Death Eater, or a dementor, or some other dark thing; I hope to Merlin for that to be true. But I wouldn't place my life on that bet, and I sure as hell would not place yours on it either.

"I'm going to let Hermione take over from here, and we hope to see you on the first meeting." Draco looked to his left to see her already standing, explaining the safety measures of the group, the name, and all the basics.

"There are two lists on the table by the door; Ron and I will be standing by it. One of them you must sign; there's a special charm on it to ensure you do not tell anyone of this meeting or what you know. The other is if you want to join.

"On the second one, the heading, you may notice, says 'Dumbledore's Army.' This is what we have decided to name ourselves, because we fight for what he and Harry believe in, but Harry didn't want it named after him."

"How do we know when the meetings are?" Hermione smiled and held up a galleon.

"They're spelled with a Protean Charm. The master coin, which Harry has, will be set with the date and time. When they change, they will vibrate lightly in your pocket to alert you. When you sign your name on the list, we will hand you one."

"It's like Voldemort." The entire room gasped, but Hermione looked indignant.

"Except for the fact that we don't burn ours into our members' skin and they are not forced to show up to every meeting or wear garish robes and hideous masks, yes, I suppose it is." Harry at least had enough decency to look ashamed; really, comparing Hermione to that thing? Draco was surprised she hadn't hexed him on the spot.

"What kind of safety features does the club employ to make sure none of us are caught?" The Ravenclaw, Terry Boot, was still checking Hermione out; he was starting to piss off Draco.

Although he could see why. Leaving her robes at Hogwarts, as most students chose to do on Hogsmeade trips, she had donned a pair of jeans and a zip-up jacket. Her hair was done in a long plait that hung over her shoulder, and Draco had to suppress a laugh at her footwear, which were the odd feminine snow boots Pansy referred to as Uggs. They were quite ugly in his opinion, but Hermione's, with a lining of hot pink fuzz peeking from the lining of the black boots looked absolutely ridiculous.

Still, she looked gorgeous. She always did, in his opinion, but that gave Boot no right to take an interest, even if they were technically both available.

He calmed himself as the crowd listened to Hermione discuss the safety features, such as the charms on the parchment and the Fidelius charm for which Severus was the secret keeper; Umbridge would never question him, and certainly not under Veritaserum—a method she was known to use often. The students, of course, were not told who the secret keeper was.

By not looking at Boot, he was able to keep his mind off trying to kill the Ravenclaw, but he had to look somewhere; of course that somewhere would be back to Hermione.

Since they had arrived in Hogsmeade, nearly seven girls had come up to him, begging for a chance at being his girlfriend; the nearly being one who came up to him, opened her mouth, and ran away. He supposed he could have said yes to any one of them, all of which had been very attractive, but it had felt like he was being unfaithful, and that was all it took in his mind to keep him from saying yes.

If he was being asked out, surely Hermione was, too? Had she taken any of them seriously, or had she said no? Would she say no to Boot when, and it was a definite when by the way he was still looking, he asked her out?

He knew he was going to drive himself insane, so he excused himself from the stage by way of a hand signal to Harry, and asked the bartender for a firewhiskey; the man took one look at his blonde hair and handed him the drink—Malfoy's got everything they wanted, no matter how close they were to being disowned.

He knew if Hermione saw what he was doing, she would not approve, so he also asked for an empty Butterbeer mug in case she asked what he was drinking; she wouldn't approve of him lying either. He shoved that thought from his head and downed the beverage, savoring the burn that flew down this throat and, moments later, back into his brain. One was not enough to make him lose control, but it certainly would keep him from doing something irrational like taking a swing at Terry Boot; alcohol, for some reason, made him a much nicer guy.

"If you'd all just follow me to the lists, I'll be happy to give you your coins." He handed the mug back to the bartender, telling him to hide it, and pretending to finish off the already-empty Butterbeer. "Thirsty?"

"Just a bit," he responded. "Thought a Butterbeer would perk me up."

"I'm sure," she said, raising an eyebrow. "Is that why your breath smells like Firewhiskey and your eyes are twitching slightly?" He stared after her as she made her way to the lists, falling backwards onto a stool.

"A little word of advice; never lie about drinking to your girl—they always know." Draco shook his head.

"She's not my girl," he said regretfully. "At least, not anymore."

"If I were you, and I wish I was, because, well, I'm sure you understand why. But if I was you, I wouldn't let someone like her get away that easy." The blonde glared.

"And what would you know about her?"

"Absolutely nothing from before today, but from what I've just seen? I'm going to say she's got a mind that could push Albus Dumbledore to his limits, she's a strong leader, and she's exactly bad to look at neither. Plus, anyone who hangs out with Harry Potter and a Malfoy has got to have something special about her, right?" Draco sighed and pointed at the Firewhiskey.

"You've got that right, my friend. I'll take another." The barkeep surprised him by pushing a Butterbeer, full this time, towards him instead.

"No you won't. If she was that concerned about you lying to her and you're this unhappy about it, another one of them is only going to escalate this situation further and I will not tolerate anything broken in here, not that you couldn't pay for it." Draco raised an eyebrow, but took a long sip.

"You ever consider being a psychologist?"

"Nah," the man laughed, swiping an already dirty washrag through a dirty glass, making Draco wonder what exactly had been in the mug he was drinking from. "I only like analyzing problems; I can't for the life of me figure out how to solve 'em, and no way do I want to help other people!"

Draco dropped more galleons on the bar than his drinks had been worth, and knocked back the rest of his drink before grinning.

"I understand, my friend—thanks for the special treatment."

"If this is the reward for that kind of advice, maybe I should get into that business." Draco laughed and waved, heading for the door to take his turn at signing the parchments.

"Two in one afternoon?" Hermione looked skeptical. "Umbridge is going to catch you for sure."

"The first one was firewhiskey," he said evenly and truthfully. "The second was Butterbeer, which, when mixed with firewhiskey, lessens the smell of the former. Not to say that I didn't try to get a second one; barkeep told me one was plenty for the afternoon." She sniffed.

"I should think none is plenty, although at least you're being honest now; why not before?"

"Because if I told you what I was drinking, you would have asked why I was drinking, and I didn't quite want to say." She opened her mouth, and he cut her off, grinning, "No, I don't want to say now, either." She huffed, and he poked her in the side, eliciting a smile, however brief.

"I'll get it out of you," she warned teasingly.

"I'm counting on it. I just hope it's you and not the reason I was trying to knock back drinks that makes you find out just what the reason was."

"That was thoroughly confusing."

"I was counting on that, too," he replied, holding out his hand expectantly. She rolled her eyes and dug in her pocket for another coin, dropping it in his pale, outstretched hand.

"I need to get a tan," he said evenly, causing her to laugh as he walked to the center of the room to talk with other students.

"What was that about," Pansy hissed. He sighed; she wouldn't give up as easy as Hermione had about the firewhiskey.

"I don't like not being her boyfriend; I have no excuse to glare at and beat up other single guys that are checking her out." Pansy did not let up. "I'm not asking her back out until we've sorted through our feelings; neither of us could remember why we fell in love with each other."

"And neither of you are making an effort to try. Merlin, Draco, this doesn't just affect the two of you; all of us are involved with both of you, and we can't sit here and watch the two of you dance around this when there's more important things to be done!"

A sudden explosion from down the street alerted the group to the fact that something was not right. Down the street, masked, robed figures—Death Eaters—were sweeping the length of the streets. Draco turned from the window and looked at the fearful screaming teens.

"Everyone shut up!" Most of them quieted. "The Death Eaters are mostly shooting at Three Broomsticks, Zonko's, and Honeydukes; the places where we all normally hang out. They are not going to suspect us in here, so everyone up against the sidewalls! Barkeep, flip the closed sign before they get close enough to realize it changing!" The shaking man obeyed and the light in the outer window switched to 'Closed' as the shop lights went out.

The students lay on top of one another as close to the wall as possible so that, should a Death Eater look in the window, they would see an empty bar with the chairs up; the barkeep had already flicked his wand to clean the place up quickly before hiding behind the bar.

"Harry, grab Hermione, Ron, and Ginny, and get out! I know Dumbledore gave you protection; the last thing we need is them getting you when they didn't come for you!" Harry nodded, and though Hermione put up a silent struggle, the four disappeared as the Death Eaters came to the line of shops where Hogs' Head was situated.

"Lucius, they're not here! Who would be in this part of town on a Hogsmeade trip?" Draco could make out Bellatrix Lestrange's voice.

"Yeah, being in this part of town is worse than not being able to go to Hogsmeade at all," Crabbe Senior's voice said, causing the others to laugh; not that Draco considered what those things did laughing.

"A little further up is the Shrieking Shack; they're more likely to end up there than this ramshackle dump," another voice said that he recognized as Mr. Zabini; Blaise, of course, recognized the voice as well and stiffened.

"Very well," a cutting voice responded. "We shall see if they are at the Shack." Draco peeked above the sill and saw four Death Eaters sweep down the street, turning to disappear around the corner.

Draco knew they had five minutes before the cloaked figures reached the Shack, so they had maybe ten to get to the passageway Hermione had shown him.

"Listen to me, all of you. I know how to get back to Hogwarts, but you need to follow me quickly!"

"Why should we?" Terry Boot stood. "Your father's out there; if you're caught, you're safe."

"My father," Draco ground out, "is threatening to disown me for when I was dating Hermione. I'm in as much danger as you." He left out the fact that they were after him; everyone assumed the Death Eaters were after Harry and their group, so why let them think any different?

"If you want to come, then follow me. If not, you can wait for the professors; I'm leaving." Boot was one of the only people to stay.

Honeydukes' was a quick trip, a mere three minutes, but that was three minutes less until his father came back. The owner was cowering behind his cash register and disinclined to raise his head, so they had no problem getting into the cellar.

"Anyone steals anything and I'll leave you here," Draco warned; he would not condone such petty crimes. He searched the floor for a spot where the dust had not settled as thick and pulled at the ring in the ground, coughing as the dust flew about.

"Everyone, get in and wait for me to lead you back. We have to hurry; they'll be here soon." Draco could hear the Death Eaters screaming at one another aboveground as the last student entered the hatch and he closed it as quietly as he could.

"You all need to stay very quiet, understood? I can't light a Lumos spell, because my father could track my magic if he wanted to, but keep close; it's going to take a good hour to get back and I want no whining!" They set off at a brisk pace, winding through the passage's twists and turns.

Draco silently berated himself for putting all these people in danger; the Death Eaters wouldn't have killed any of his classmates if he had simply left, right? Or would they have taken many and demanded an exchange for Draco, Pansy, and Blaise? Of course, the entire school would rally for the three to be handed over; Potter and his group were the only ones who liked the three of them and, at present, Potter was considered crazy.

Had he done the right thing? It was a difficult thing to decide, but, in the end, he believed himself in the right and continued on until they reached a dead end a little over an hour later.

Rather than say the password for everyone to hear, Draco, in the pitch black of the tunnel, wrote 'dissendium' on the solid stone before him; it worked the same as a password, which was how those who could not speak managed to get into password-protected places.

The wall slid back and as twenty or so students filed out, Draco was relieved; he had gotten them all back safely. Well, the ones who had come with him.

Some of the fourth years came up to him, thanking him for helping, while the fifth, sixth, and seventh years nodded their appreciation. The Weasley twins who, before, may not have trusted him, stood at his side now, nodding their approval; he had just earned their stamp of acceptance—highly important when dealing with the other Weasleys.

Ron respected his brothers, as did Ginny, so their acceptance meant general Weasley acceptance—something Draco never realized he cared about so much.

Pansy hugged him and Blaise hit him on the back a few times.

"Way to go, man. You really saved us all back there," Blaise said, still shaken up from the fact that his father had been there with Draco's; Pansy's parents were silent supporters—Ministry infiltrators who could not afford to be seen or heard. The only reason Lucius had been sent was because he was the only one with half a shot at bringing his son home; no one else would have known what strings to pull, and he was too good a dueler and had far too much knowledge of Dark Arts from Lucius for the Death Eaters to have taken him on otherwise.

Yet even with Lucius, they failed. Draco smirked at the return his father was sure to get from Voldemort and made a silent promise that he would not go back to Hogsmeade for the year; his gut instinct told him those situated around him would not be visiting again anytime soon.

* * *

"Headmaster, there's been an attack on Hogsmeade, just like you said!" Dumbledore looked at Hermione, who was beside herself with fear; Draco had a portkey, but the other students didn't, and no one except Snape was supposed to know what they were meeting for.

"I see. That is troubling; and the professors who accompanied you all into Hogsmeade are incapacitated. It seems someone placed Rosmerta under the Imperius and had her slip sleeping potions into their drinks." This, of course, did nothing to soothe Hermione; if anything, it only served to agitate her further.

"Why didn't he come with us? They're after him!"

"Perhaps he did not think it would be wise to leave your fellow students."

"But he sent us back!" Dumbledore looked over his half-moon glasses at her.

"My dear, let us think this through. Why would he send Harry back?"

"Because Harry is the most important person in winning the war," she said rationally. "If they had caught him, they would have left Draco, or simply killed him, and took Harry to Voldemort." Ron shuddered at the name, but continued.

"Why would he send back Mister and Miss Weasley?"

"Harry would never leave without them or me."

"I think our young Mister Malfoy had a different motive for sending you back, but that is the gist of it, yes." Hermione blushed, but stamped her feet.

"There were older, more capable students there; why couldn't they handle it?" He chuckled.

"You are allowing your emotions to cloud your judgment, Miss Granger, which is something Mister Malfoy did not do. He knew the seventh and sixth years, not to mention your own classmates, would be far too preoccupied with the fact that there were Death Eaters. Barring those who attended the extremely eventful Quidditch World Cup the summer previous this, none of them have witnessed such an attack. He, however, has had experience with Death Eaters, and believed he could think calmly and rationally enough to save, not only himself, but those with him.

"In fact, I believe in about fifty minutes we shall see the return of twenty of our students, including the twin Weasleys, Miss Parkinson, Mister Zabini, and your Mister Malfoy, Miss Granger." Hermione blushed, muttering something about how he wasn't hers, but said nothing else.

"Why so soon?" Ron asked. "Don't sleeping potions take longer than that to finish? And by broom, walking, or apparating from outside Hogwarts, that's still longer than an hour."

"Hermione, did you show Draco the statue on the third floor?" She nodded, understanding dawning on her.

"He's leading them back! He remembered the passageway and he's leading them back!"

"Quite the hero, he is," Dumbledore nodded. "I believe he is rather deserving of a School Service Award beside Misters Potter and Weasley for their rescue of Miss Weasley." Though she knew Draco would vehemently refuse, she smiled at the notion.

"I believe some food would do you all a little good," Dumbledore said, rising from his seat. "I shall tell Dobby to prepare a small table in the Great Hall." Hermione looked like she wanted to protest, but she let it drop, nodding in peaceful resignation.

"You may wait here once you have a little more blood sugar; I wouldn't want you passing out before Mister Malfoy and his group even arrive." They did as told, happy that Draco, Pansy, and Blaise had not only escaped, but saved a few more lives in the process.

But what happened to the other ten people that had been at the meeting and everyone else in Hogsmeade?

* * *

How could the brats have been so recalcitrant as to hold their little meeting in Hogsmeade? Especially in a bar where Death Eaters were known to knock back a firewhiskey or two? Draco, for instance, knew his father frequented the place from time to time! They were making it extremely hard to keep an eye on them without getting caught.

Although Albus had done the same thing near sixteen years ago; he shook the thought from his head.

When the panic began and Draco began shouting orders, no one noticed the man in the corner portkey away; he was inconspicuous with his dark colors and hood.

Inconspicuous—that and subtle, while synonymous, had different applications, and Draco Lucius Malfoy needed to learn both!

Severus Snape sneered at his reflection in the mirror above the mantle of his fireplace as he poured himself a glass of scotch; he hadn't actually touched the drink he'd ordered at the Hogs' Head—no telling where that glass had been. Plus, after the events of the day, keeping watch over Draco and their little army, Severus felt he was more than entitled to a nip of alcohol.

Albus Dumbledore, as always, had other plans—a fact he discovered as a note was flung through the fireplace.

_Meet me in my office immediately. –Albus_

What could the man possibly want now?

* * *

"Severus, I'm so glad you could make it." Albus chose to ignore the mutterings of how he didn't have much of a choice, knowing it was quite true.

"What is it you need, Albus? I believe, after today's events, I'm quite deserving of some peace, quiet, and scotch."

"Oh? Care for a lemon drop, Severus?" The man snorted, as Albus knew he would.

"Hardly. I'm the one that makes Veritaserum for you to soak them in, Albus. Why would I want to submit myself to that? Do you not trust me?" Albus peered over his glasses at the snarky Potion Master.

"Now, Severus, how could you ask such a thing? Of course, the question may be very necessary soon, due to the fact that I have a question that could be considered untrusting; why were you in Hogsmeade today when you knew there would be a Death Eater attack?"

* * *

He knew the Headmaster would find out—nothing got by unnoticed around him—but did Albus honestly think he had been involved in the attack?

"The boy has not told you then." It was not a question; it was rather obvious something Potter was doing had made it under the radar of the old man.

"Told me what, Severus?"

"He and the others do not necessarily approve of this year's choice of a DADA professor. It seems," Severus inserted a wry smile here, "the group believes Potter would have made a much more suitable choice. They have fashioned a secret club Mister Malfoy tells me they call 'Dumbledore's Army.'" Albus looked truly floored, and Severus wondered how something so big had made it through without the Headmaster finding out.

"Mister Malfoy recommended, and the group approved, of me being the secret keeper for the dates and locations of their meetings; Miss Granger performed the Fidelius Charm."

"A wise move," Albus muttered. "Dolores will question all the students in the school, but she believes you are on her side, or, at least, not on mine, so you will be safe. Not to mention you would never submit yourself to drinking Veritaserum. My dear boy, please prepare a batch or two of fake Veritaserum to give to Dolores, should she inquire after it."

As if he had not been in the process of doing so already.

"Severus, what do you think of their idea to create this group?" Why was his opinion being asked for? It was not as if Albus would cancel or continue the club based on his decision; in fact, due to the fact that Potter was in charge, he would not even consider cancelling.

"I believe it was a rash decision, foolishly acted out by the Gryffindors of the group, and hatched due to a frustration with the lack of initiative taken due to the return of the Dark Lord." Albus looked disappointed. "However, because Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy are both well-thought and rational students with a vast knowledge of protection spells and Mister Potter has experienced the Dark Lord in battle more times than most, I also believe they may flourish into exactly what the name suggests; a thoroughly competent and able army."

"My army," Albus chuckled to himself. "You realize if they are caught, I will be finished for the rest of the year, correct? They have taken my name, unknowingly, which means Mister Potter cannot take credit for the club."

"Albus, you cannot leave. Dolores would take over; Cornelius would never let Minerva succeed you!"

"Precisely." Severus was flustered, an occurrence that rarely occurred unless Albus was present.

"Everything will unfold in due time, my dear boy. Now, I believe you have earned yourself a scotch or two." Severus muttered some more, but made his way back down to his dungeons, halted only once by Potter, Granger, and the two youngest Weasleys.

"Professor! Is everything alright with the Headmaster?" Granger seemed to be wondering why he was out of his dungeons.

"No, Miss Granger. Nothing is out of the ordinary, but I suggest you make your way to the Headmaster's office; I believe he is expecting you. By the way, when Mister Malfoy returns, the five of you will come to my office; I'm sure Mister Potter can direct you." They nodded and, as he returned to his dungeons, he noted briefly that it was the most polite conversation he'd ever had with the Gryffindors.

He sunk into his chair, scotch in one hand, contemplating the fire and scowled when he realized it was something he was going to have to get used to—in private. In public, he smirked to himself, he still got to be a "right git," as Mister Weasley would put it.

* * *

"What do you think he wants?" Hermione shrugged her shoulders, still worried about Draco even though she knew he was safe underground and on his way to the castle. Ron, sensing her worry, redirected his question to Harry as Ginny walked next to her, offering support.

She recognized her worry as being the same kind Mrs. Weasley had concerning Harry; even though she knew he was safe under enchantments or watched by eight Order members, she still would not rest easy until she could see him. Even though the passage was safe and underground and no Death Eaters knew of it, she still wouldn't stop worrying until his blonde hair peeked from behind the statue.

For a few minutes in the Great Hall, Hermione had considered waiting by the witch statue, but thought it would seem extremely odd and would draw attention, so she opted to wait with the others in Dumbledore's office.

As they drew closer to the door of the Headmaster's office, they heard muffled voices, but it didn't take long for Hermione to recognize the one that wasn't Dumbledore.

"Draco!" She burst through the door and wrapped her arms around his neck, releasing a few tears, relieved he was safe. It took everything in her, though, to pull away without kissing him.

"Nice save, mate," Ron chuckled, slapping him on the back. "Professor Dumbledore tell you the good news, yet?" Draco looked like he wasn't sure if he should be suspicious.

"Ah, yes, thank you for the reminder, Mister Weasley." As if he had really forgotten. "Mister Malfoy, the school would be honored to present you with a Service to the School award to be placed beside Misters Potter and Weasley whether you accept it." Here, he gave a glance over his spectacles with a knowing smile and continued, "Or not."

Draco, Hermione was surprised to note, did not argue. He shrugged his shoulders and returned the high-five Harry had offered.

"Now then, if everyone is safe and happy, perhaps you four would like to escort Mister Malfoy to dinner? I know you have recently eaten, but his blood sugar may be a tad lower than yours," he smiled.

They all agreed, knowing everything that had needed to be said to Draco had been long over with, which was why the door to the office had been unlocked and not charmed or warded against listeners.

But what had been said, Hermione wondered. Deciding it didn't matter so long as they were safe, she shrugged and returned her attention to the other conversation.

"Did everyone from the Head get out?" Harry, of course, was concerned about the DA.

"Terry Boot managed to convince a few that I was working with the Death Eaters, but once they realize I got the other twenty-two who came with me back safely, I think they'll see differently." Hermione scowled at the name.

"That prick was checking me out the entire time I was talking; I don't think he was paying attention to anything except the answer I directed to his question." Draco smirked at her answer, but she pretended not to notice. "Harry, when we start dueling, pair me up with him; I'd like to be put up against someone who has talent, but that I can knock flat without feeling bad."

She could tell the group was rather surprised at the cheerfulness in her tone despite the vengeful words. Of course, why would she let them know the only real reason she wanted to duel him was to make Draco feel better; she knew why he had been trying to get more than one drink, but she didn't want him to feel insecure.

Maybe Harry would let Draco get a few jinxes in during dueling as well. By the time she realized her thoughts had, once again, drifted from normal conversation, they had already arrived at the Great Hall, and she was too far behind the conversation to join back in, so she settled for watching them interact, laughing here and there, until…

"Oh! Draco, Snape wants us to meet him in his office, although I'm sure he can wait until you're finished eating…" He looked incredulously at her.

"Severus wanted to meet us once I got back, and you let us go eat? He's going to be a right git!" Ron burst out laughing when Draco used his terminology for the man, but they all rose and bolted to the dungeons, hoping the greasy git wasn't too mad.

"Let me guess," he said, one eyebrow raised. "Either Draco decided his stomach took precedence, or one of you forgot to tell him." They all looked mildly ashamed, but he waved them in. They knew something was up when he put a silencing charm over his office.

"What were you thinking?" His voice thundered and, other than Draco who had been on the receiving end of his godfather's anger, the group cowered, wondering what they had done.

"Holding a meeting in a pub where Death Eaters are known to frequent? Draco, I know you know Lucius has made more than a stop or two in that bar! How could you know if the other patron in the bar today was neutral, a friend, or an enemy?"

"Sir, how did you?" Comprehension dawned on Hermione. "You were the man in the back. But why?" Snape, to their surprise, laughed, though it was a dry, sarcastic one, which lessened the shock.

"I figured if I was to be your secret keeper, I should listen in on a meeting or two, as I won't actually be attending; if someone followed, it would be the equivalent of me telling them. I will maintain a safe distance from your meetings, so I decided to take the opportunity and followed you today. I did not, however, believe you would do something so irresponsible!"

"But the Death Eaters said it themselves," Ron piped up. "No one would come in on a Hogsmeade-visiting today."

"You do not understand, Mister Weasley." Suddenly, he looked much older than Draco had ever known him. "Something of these proportions could have gotten you and all involved expelled. If something of this magnitude is to be attempted, all precautions, including simple silencing charms, are to be used. What if the barkeep had been an enemy?" Draco kept it to himself that that was highly unlikely.

"Long ago, nearly sixteen years ago, someone else made that mistake, and I acted on it. I was still under the Dark Lord's influence, and it cost someone very dear to me her life and that of her husband. If it had not been for me, it is possible they would still be here." Draco was the only one who noticed his eyes dart to Harry, and he stifled a gasp; Hermione gave him an odd look, but he shook his head.

"You need to learn from my and other people's mistakes, or it could prove fatal. Even Mad-Eye had a few good examples of battles he's done, even if it was Crouch." Harry remembered _that_ quite well. "Where we've been is more relevant than you may think to where we are now."

"Sir, if I may, besides our incompetence and lack of precautionary actions, what did you think overall today?" Snape looked at Harry and, for once, gave him a genuine smile.

"I think, Mister Potter, that Dolores Umbridge and the Ministry is in for a surprise when you take your O.W.L.s."

* * *

It was far later that Draco realized yet another line had disappeared—although that damn wolf line was still there.

* * *

**A/N:****VampireAlchemist:** Alas, thank you!

**Ron Weasley:** Haha! My first drabble appearance!

**VampireAlchemist:** Don't get too used to it; you're not a very popular character.

**Ron Weasley:** The people love me! Don't they Luna?

**Luna Lovegood:** Your head is full of nargles.

**Vamp and Ron:** *silence*

**VampireAlchemist:** Um, yes, so...I have no idea where to go after that comment.

**Ron and Luna:** PLEASE REVIEW!

**Luna Lovegood:** Or the nargles may infest your brain.

**VampireAlchemist:** *bite*

**Luna Lovegood:** Ah! The nargles!

_Next Chapter:_ Cutting Down the Sycamores


	12. Cutting Down the Sycamores

**A/N:** Have ya missed me? I've missed you! No internet is a heavy price to pay for a week in California! Ah, well. At least it's given me a little time to work on the story...I think there's only, like, four chapters left. Enjoy chapter 12!

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* * *

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How High Does The Sycamore Grow; If You Cut It Down It Down, Then You'll Never Know

* * *

The time until the first meeting was drawing closer, and the excitement was practically tangible. Everyone that had been at the meeting in Hogsmeade continuously shot looks at Harry, mostly anticipatory.

Harry had taken to freaking out lately; he barely found time to talk back in class, as he was constantly writing down lesson plans. Umbridge, the conceited hag that she was, believed that she had gotten him to see her way and that he was writing notes from the book; Hermione tried to convince him he shouldn't be writing DA plans in DADA, but he was confident Umbridge would never figure it out.

Not that the paper was charmed to be read only by him or anything of the sort.

Hermione, ever the over-achiever, always completed all her notes and gave them to Harry the night before each lesson so that he could prove to the toad he was actually doing something—which he wasn't, but why did she have to know that?

His lesson plans generally revolved around disarming, shield, and stunning spells with some added things later on, such as the Patronus charm.

Hermione, as Harry put his plans together, was busy working out the mechanics of the whole plan; where would they hold it and should they start spells right away or do something else?

No one had any idea of where to hold the meetings, because anywhere they thought of was too small for the amount of people that would show up. Hermione wondered if she could place an expansion charm on one of the rooms, but Umbridge was surely monitoring spells on unused classrooms and the magic could be traced back to one of them.

So that was why, two nights before the first meeting, Hermione was sitting in the Gryffindor Common Room, nearly pulling her hair out. It had been her job to find a room or a place for them to meet, and now she was failing miserably, something she was not accustomed to. She dropped her head to the table and stared at the same word on her Potions essay, wondering if the ink had tattooed itself to her forehead yet, but not bothering to check.

Harry and Ron were looking at her, concerned, but trying not to say anything; when she was in a mood, she was a right fright to behold.

"I'm going for a walk," she announced, standing suddenly. Harry called to her as she reached the portrait and sent a low-power scourgify spell at her forehead; perhaps there had been a few words inked backwards about dittany and its properties in a blood-replenishing potion?

The Fat Lady nodded to her as she strode from the portrait with no destination in mind. Feeling nostalgic, she skipped to the second floor girls bathroom, Myrtle's bathroom, and traced the now-clean wall where once there had been horrible messages written to people like her. Second year had been no fun, especially when she had spent the last third of it frozen on a hospital bed. Still, it had been very educational, what with her knowledge of how to brew Polyjuice and all that.

But Myrtle's bathroom simply would not suffice for their meetings.

So she continued to walk about the castle, claiming patrol duty twice to different teachers, nodding at her fellow prefects.

She reached the base of the Astronomy tower, looking as far up the stairs as she could. Third year, saving Sirius from a fate worse than death, Harry and she had illegally released him from one of the rooms on the very top—rooms that were numerous and enormous.

But the Astronomy tower was off limits to non-prefect students after hours and would be far too suspicious.

As she was walking down the third floor, she continued to think about where they could possibly hold a meeting that no one would notice.

Suddenly, she heard a noise that stopped her in her tracks. It was high-pitched and low at the same time, smooth as silk and cold as ice, calling her name in an even tone.

"Hello?" She followed her steps back the way she came, peeking around corners, her wand out and at the ready. As she continued, she thought herself crazy. _'You've been concentrating on finding a room for the meeting so hard, you're going insane,' _she scolded herself.

Then, she heard it again, from the other direction. Was it toying with her, or was she really going insane?

Probably a bit of both, and she was going to go even more insane if she didn't think of a room soon!

Even as some incredibly creepy voice stalked her, all she could think about was a room!

Suddenly, without warning, a door materialized from the wall, startling her into losing her footing as she tripped over the hemming of her robes. Now she was positive she was insane; in five years, she had never seen such a door on the third floor, and she knew all about the third floor; her first year was proof of that.

Shivering at the mental image of Fluffy that thought had conjured, she stepped carefully towards the door, making certain her wand was pointed at anything that could come out.

A distant clattering alerted her to the fact that she had dropped her wand, but none of that mattered when she took in the contents of the room.

Shelves lined one end of the room with titles such as 'Advanced Defense: A Guide to Everything You Want to Know and Some Things You'll Wish You Didn't' as well as 'Beginner's Luck: Simple Defense Spells to Get You Out of a Bind.'

The door behind her had melted into a wall of mirrors, and the rest of the room was the definition of a training room, sparse yet full, empty yet protected. How had she never seen this room before?

* * *

"I'm telling you—on the third floor, there is this amazing room that simply opens up into a training arena!" Ron and Harry both thought she was crazy; this much she knew.

"And how again did you find it?" Ron spoke slowly, as though to a two-year-old; she glared at him, complete with a pout.

"I walked down the corridor near Fluffy's old room," twin shudders at this reminder, "and I heard this creepy voice saying my name. I walked down the hall and when I turned around, it just materialized."

"Then dematerialized? So how are we to find it again, then?" Ron gave her an 'I thought so' look when she shrugged her shoulders helplessly.

"Hermione." _Here we go,_ she thought. _Now Harry's going to make fun of me._ "When you walked by this room, how many times?" She cocked her head. Now why would that matter? She asked him as much.

"Dumbledore told me about this my first year. He said he had to go to the bathroom but was unable to locate a bathroom quickly." Ron and Hermione nodded; such a nonsensical thing was right around the Headmaster's line of thinking. "He said he was pacing the corridor, and when he walked by a third time, there was a door, and inside, hundreds of chamberpots were stacked floor to ceiling. When he came back later that day, though, it was gone."

"What does a chamberpot storage facility have to do with Hermione's nutty training arena theory?" She shot him a glare.

"I walked by three times, Harry."

"And you were thinking about a place to hold the meetings, right?" She nodded. "Dobby says it's called the 'Room of Requirement.' He told me about it last year." Suddenly, Hermione was very uncomfortable.

Dobby had not had the best methods in finding ways to help Harry; between the Gillyweed and the Quidditch match, she just wasn't sure how much she trusted the house elf. She tactfully (a skill Ron had yet to learn) approached the subject about how much they could depend on the elf's word.

"Didn't I just say Dumbledore told me about it first year?" She muttered, nodding her head. "Great. Congratulations, Hermione—you found us a practice space."

"How are we going to let everyone know where it is by the first meeting?" Ron seemed to have conveniently forgotten he had been taunting her about it mere moments earlier.

"When's the first meeting?" Harry looked to Hermione, the designated keeper of everyone's schedules. She sighed; taking care of Harry and Ron was like having kids—she wasn't prepared to be a teenage mother of teenagers!

"Gryffindor has practice Thursdays, Hufflepuff on Mondays, Ravenclaw has Wednesdays, and Slytherins on Fridays, but Draco was the only Slytherin that was on the Quidditch team, and he quit." He told her he was bored with Quidditch, but secretly, she thought it was because he was tired of looking over his shoulder for one of the Death Eater beaters to knock a bludger his way.

"Today is Monday, so do you think sending the message now will give everyone enough time? About an hour after dinner should seem unsuspicious." Ron and Hermione nodded and Harry handed her the master galleon; he still had no idea how to work it.

She programmed the little golden coin and felt the corresponding vibration in her pocket to alert members of a meeting. The numbers melted to form _'November 26: 7 pm.'_ Inwardly, she gloated a little at her perfect Protean Charm; it was very complicated for a seventh year to perform, much less a fifth year.

Her gloating melted away as she thought of a certain blonde, though—one she had not thought of in twenty-four hours due to the stress of trying to think of a meeting spot. He had saved her and everyone else in their newly-formed army less than seventy-two hours ago, and, apart from classes today, had done nothing but stare at the ceiling in his room.

Determined, she picked herself up from the triangle the three of them formed and strode towards the exit to the portrait.

The Portrait did not swing open.

Knocking determinedly, the muted sound of the Fat Lady came from the other side.

"I can't let you out, dear—new policy, I'm afraid."

"New policy? Made by whom?"

"_Educational Decree Number Who-gives-a-blast-ended-skrewts-blasted-end_." It seemed the Fat Lady did not approve of this new policy made by the Ministry and its attempt to overtake Hogwarts.

"Well, by the old laws passed through the school centuries before the Ministry even began," Hermione stated evenly, though a hint of ice coated her words, "as a prefect, unless a further _decree_ is made, I have an undeniable right to be out after hours if I believe not doing so will hinder by duties—I have to patrol in a half hour and I like to be early, so I need to leave."

"Dear, you need to use the special words." She could tell the lady on the other side was smirking at one of her favorite's use of the rules to circumvent the rules.

"Alright then." She took a deep breath and spoke once more. "I, Gryffindor Prefect Hermione Granger, invoke the right to bypass the new decree made by Dolores Umbridge of the Ministry in order to fulfill my role as outlined by Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry." She was as detailed as possible, which was apparently detailed enough for the old magic, because the Portrait swung open without further provocation.

"Very nicely handled, my dear." The Fat Lady winked at her. "I must say, that toad of a woman has gotten far too comfortable where she is, and it's about time someone gave her a taste of what it's like to be outdone." Hermione couldn't agree more; Umbridge was locking people in their dorms after curfew?

What about the students in their fifth year and up who had the right to be up one hour later than curfew? Were they to be locked out or not allowed their rights at all?

She couldn't help the stomp to her step as she proceeded to her, now Draco's, private chambers.

_'Narcissa Iris Black.'_ The door, unhindered by Umbridge's magic due to its ownership by a prefect, swung open to reveal a crackling fire and obscenely tidy room.

"Draco?"

* * *

He heard her voice, but he had been hearing it all day, so what was one more time? It wasn't like he was going insane or anything.

The golden coin that now twirled between his thumb and forefinger lay still after vibrating, rather annoyingly, as the figures melted and shifted to form the date and time for their meeting—tomorrow after dinner.

Amusedly, he realized he was turning into quite the slug, doing nothing but staring at the shifting patterns of silver and gold on his ceiling, only rising to use the bathroom and call a house elf so he did not need to travel down to the Great Hall. The only moments he had left the prefect rooms had been for classes and patrol in the last few days—ever since Hogsmeade.

After such a daring escape, most would have reveled in the aftershock, making the story sound more extreme than it was, like when he was 'attacked' by that hippogriff during third year. His mind, though, had not been on the attack or the escape, but the aftermath.

First, there was the discussion with Dumbledore about how crucial and appreciated his swift actions had been followed by interrogation, though it was not obvious—subtle was more Albus Dumbledore's style—about why he had been able to round up so many people and why they were in the Hogs' Head. Surely Zonko's would have been much preferred, or perhaps the Three Broomsticks, rather than a dingy Death Eater hide-out.

He was pleased to say that not only did he say nothing, but he did not succumb to the innocent 'get you something to drink' bit or accept a lemon drop—Severus had told him about the Veritaserum.

Then there was the Golden Trio bursting through the door as Hermione threw her arms around him like she never wanted to let go. He never wanted her to let go.

But she did, and it felt as though she had felt scorched by his touch; she pulled away so suddenly as though realizing what she was actually doing. Was being with him so revolting? Was she only concerned for him as she was for Harry and Ron? Had he been demoted to friend status indefinitely?

In the back of his mind, he knew he was being stupid; hadn't her actions and Pansy's words on Saturday made it more than clear that the two of them were still in love? Hadn't his and Hermione's words to each other in the library that day made it clear they were simply trying to work out the reasons for this love?

He knew why he loved Hermione. She was strong, but knew when to give a little. She was stubborn, but most of the time because she was right. She knew how to gracefully accept defeat and learn from her experiences.

But those were things that most people knew about her.

How many people, besides Harry and Ron, knew that her favorite treat was French fries and a chocolate shake? That she didn't call herself a vegetarian, but never ate meat? He doubted she even realized her tendency to shy away from beef or any other animal meat.

And that was simply one more reason he loved her—she was completely oblivious to the quirks that made her everything she was. He loved the fact that she stood for everything that was right with the world simply by living day to day. How she smiled even when someone called her a 'Mudblood' or spat an insult at her simply because she was Harry's friend and the school was in the middle of a 'We-Hate-Potter-Fest.'

She wasn't perfect, and she knew it, but she was perfect for him, and he loved her for it.

But why did he fall in love with her?

After all, these were all things he'd learned about her since beginning their friendship and, quickly thereafter, their relationship.

What made him go from taunting and hating her that day she had detention to them falling in love and then all this?

It was these thoughts that were the reason he never left the room anymore; how could he face her knowing all he had thought about for the last two days was her and the fact that he still couldn't pick apart why he loved her? He couldn't—simple as that—so he wouldn't.

But that still left the stupid whispers he kept hearing of his name, raising to normal speaking level, followed by worried shouts. Why would she be shouting; she wasn't even here.

"Draco, where are you? Are you in here? I will summon you with an _Accio_ spell; don't test me!" Despite the threat (why would an imaginary voice make a threat? Wouldn't he want it to be saying 'I love you' or something equally mushy?) the voice still sounded truly worried, and he hated for Hermione's voice, whether it be in his head or not, to sound so distressed.

"In the bedroom; I'm back here!" The last thing he truly expected was for her to appear in his doorway a mere half second later—she couldn't have been faster if she apparated.

"Merlin, you gave me a heart attack!" He noted briefly that this probably was not an apparition of any sort, but he gave her no more notice than eye contact, a nod, or a shake of the head. Anything else might give too much away, though too much of what he couldn't decide.

"Is this what you've been doing for the last three days?" She sounded worried.

"No." His answer was probably rude, but technically, it was also true—he had gone to classes today as well.

"I see." She was definitely smart enough to pick up the false note in his answer, no matter how short and brief. "Well, what are you doing?"

"Thinking." There; he would reveal no more than that.

"About?" A simple question; nothing more or less.

"You." He made no sign that he had given away more than he intended. How had she managed to provoke a truthful response with nothing more than a curious look and a simple word? She did not look uncomfortable with the answer, just slightly thrown.

She decided to change the subject before he could become uncomfortable with what he just said. Still, he thought over what he had said. Had someone slipped him Veritaserum? No, he would have answered her first question seriously and then would have no idea where he was. He wouldn't be able to question his being under the potion's influences while under it.

"Did you get the message?" She was, of course, referring to the galleon; he nodded. "I thought I'd tell you where we're meeting—you can get word to the Slytherin's better than we can." So her true motive for coming down was business in the end; why was he not surprised.

"That's not the only reason I came down, though," she said firmly—had she read his mind?—as she noticed the scowl creeping slowly onto his face. "I came down to talk to you."

"About?" Would his simple question evoke such an answer as hers had?

"Us." It had. He would have to remember the usefulness of that word in the future when dealing with her. "Just because we're not dating," here he cringed, "doesn't mean we can't talk. Friends talk." True, but they were more than friends and less than dating; it made the subjects they could cover rather uncomfortable and less broad at times.

"So talk." He hadn't meant to sound so crass and blunt, but he felt hurt—he didn't know why exactly—and he thought the sooner she left, then the sooner it would, too.

Apparently, the only thing it served to do was infuriate Hermione, but she seemed to quell her anger rather well in his opinion.

"Draco Lucius Malfoy, don't you _dare_ push me away in such a manner," she told him in a low, smooth and even voice; he should have known she wouldn't fall for such a trick. "Just because I still love you, don't think I'll tolerate you treating me like an old shoe and then come back when you've sorted through all of your feelings. This is just as confusing for me as it is for you, but I've treated you no less kindly than everyone else in my life." He told himself that he was treating her no differently than everyone else in his life at the moment as well, a fact that he could tell rather annoyed Pansy and Blaise, who expected to be treated better.

"Granted, I'll give you that you're treating me no differently than everyone else around you," _how did she always manage to do that_, "but rather than simply treat me this way, you're treating other people who care about you, your friends, this way, too, and none of them deserve it. I don't quite frankly know why I deserve it, but it's getting bloody annoying regardless!

"I came down here to tell you why I love you, or why I fell in love with you, rather. It _was_ because you were strong-willed, patient, and always knew how to get what you wanted, but how to do it the right way. You were a strong, supportive, and true friend, though never to me until a few months ago; you defended them with an intensity and fierceness mirrored only by Harry." So he was just like Potter—wonderful.

"But you have so much that no one else does. Your friends have never defined you; Draco Lucius Malfoy is his own person and you take responsibility for everything you do, whether it would be in your best interests to fess up or not—unless it was in Potions and you were sabotaging the Gryffindors, but I'm willing to let that one slide," she said, raising an eyebrow at him. He grinned—Potions always was amusing with those Gryffindors.

"I fell in love with you because you were things that I wanted to be, but never thought I could. I'm still in love with you because you helped me see sides of me I never thought were there, sides that mirrored yours so well—at least," she added, standing with a disappointed lines etched into her face and her tone, "at least I thought they mirrored yours—but how can they mirror yours if you don't seem to have them anymore?"

He shot up from the bed as she turned away, beginning to run for the Portrait door. Casting a silent locking charm at the door and hoping it would slow her down, he sped to catch up with her before she figured it out. Luckily, his hand latched to her wrist just as her wand began to rise.

"Please, Hermione…don't leave." He clung to her desperately, searching her eyes with his, willing her to stay with just those words and his eyes. She did. He began choking on the words he forced out, and he could never seem to get a full one to emerge.

He could see the mirth in her eyes as she placed one finger gently to his lips, silencing his feeble attempts at speaking coherently.

"Prove me wrong, Draco. Prove you haven't changed," she whispered, mirth replaced with longing.

His words died as her finger dropped and she looked towards the floor; she never seemed to notice when he released her wrist that he so desperately clung to mere moments earlier.

Studying her, he realized he had known exactly why he fell in love with her all along, whether or not he had known how to express it to her the way she had to him. Empowered by his revelation, he placed a hand gently on her waist and pulled her to him, wrapping his other arm around her waist and letting his head fall to her neck.

Surprised, she steadied herself by placing her hands on his chest, but when his arms wrapped around her, she leaned into the embrace with a deep sigh.

A tear escaped his eyes, long overdue, and he could tell she felt it when she pulled her hands around him to return the comfort he was offering her. He noted how perfectly she fit into him, her head so securely tucked beneath his, their arms wrapped around each other just right.

He pulled away and looked down into her tearful eyes that mirrored his own; this was the girl he loved, the girl he would always love. One hand tipped her chin to look back at him, as she had become rather uncomfortable with the seemingly intense scrutiny he was giving her.

Their eyes connected and her lips parted and his came down, resealing the love the two shared in an explosion of power and excitement. Fireworks lit up behind his eyes and he felt Hermione struggle to remain standing, clinging to him for support, and he knew that this was how everything was meant to be.

_This _was right; not those lost days they'd spent wishing for one another's company, but this, being together, was what was right. He felt every perfect puzzle piece lock into place and he knew—he was home.

Maybe it was all a matter of being patient. If you didn't take the time to listen, to think, to actually realize, how would you ever get your answers?

If you cut down the sycamore tree, how will you ever know how high it can grow?

* * *

She'd been so stupid to come down to Draco's room with a message that could have waited until classes. Instead, not only had she broken out of the Gryffindor tower without permission, but nothing had been accomplished; Draco was still a hopelessly lost cause drifting in and out of consciousness on the bed, moping.

What a classic Slytherin, she snorted.

Stupidly and, of course, with the true idiotic bravery of a Gryffindor, she had confessed everything to Draco, seemingly before he was ready to hear it, and he'd responded with nothing. Had it been too much to ask for? Had he even been thinking about their conversation in the library as she had been for the last three days? Of course, those thoughts had to find room within her worries about the meeting location, but they still dominated plenty of her active thoughts!

But as she reached for the Portrait handle, a neon orange glow bathed the cracks before subsiding and she lifted her wand to counteract it with an _Alohamora_; his locking charm was only slowing her down, not stopping her. The hand on her wrist was a more permanent method of getting her to stay, however.

His thin, pale fingers were curled tightly, but loosely, around her wrist to make sure she stayed without hurting her; the mere contact alone would have made her stay. Although if it hadn't, his next words would have.

"Please, Hermione…don't leave." She looked at him and sighed, her heart breaking just a bit; had she done this to him? Had he ever been this vulnerable?

Suddenly, her guilt at his vulnerability vanished as his stuttering began; he seemed incapable of forming a coherent sentence beyond those four words, and she couldn't help but chuckle. His silver eyes pierced her, and she dropped her gaze.

"Prove me wrong, Draco. Prove you haven't changed." The two of them sat in silence for only a few moments, Hermione looking forlornly at the floor—he was being awfully silent.

When he pulled her to him, she nearly toppled over; could he have been a little less intense? Still, the warmth his body emanated, the safety she felt from being so close, made her feel like nothing could go wrong. Why couldn't they simply stay like this forever?

And then she felt the warm tears on her neck, dampening her skin—Draco was crying. She wrapped her arms firmly around his waist, offering him the same comfort he was offering her, whether he knew it or not.

And then he pulled back, and his hand on her cheek felt amazing, the softest touch with the most meaning.

And then they were kissing like nothing had ever happened between them, like the two of them had never even been arguing. His hands held her, safe and sound, and she realized this was where she always wanted to be—with Draco—with her love.

* * *

**A/N:** _VampireAlchemist:_ Oh, I am SO good...another chapter in the bag!

_Harry Potter:_ *I'm Harry Potter...I'm Harry Potter...I'm Harry Potter*

_VampireAlchemist:_ A bit of identity confusion, Potty?

_Harry Potter:_ It seems the muggles have discovered the existence of wizards through Neville's alias...NielCicierga! He released the names of the six most important characters in the Wizarding World through his annoying rendition of the 'Harry Potter Puppet Pals!'

_VampireAlchemist:_ I fail to see the problem...

_Harry Potter:_ The problem is it's stuck in my head and that is just *not* cool!

_VampireAlchemist:_ So it's *not* about revealing your names to the Muggle world?

_Harry Potter:_ *Duh.* You've already done that, along with the millions of other fanfiction-ers...and J.K. Rowling.

_VampireAlchemist:_ JUST GET IT OVER WITH.

_Harry Potter:_ Uh, Please Review.

**_Next Chapter:_**_ Unheard Wolf Cries_


	13. Unheard Wolf Cries

**A/N:** It's been so long; I'm sorry! I always seem to do the most writing during the summer when there's no schoolwork. I guess I should give you all fair warning now; don't expect too many updates during the school year; the majority will be during breaks, long weekends, and summer vaca. Anyways, enjoy this chapter of Colors of the Wind!

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And You'll Never Hear The Wolf Cry To The Blue Corn Moon

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Needless to say, there was much rejoicing when everyone found out Hermione and Draco had cleared the air. In fact, it went something along the lines of,

"FINALLY! So who finally pulled their head out of their arse first?" Everyone stared at the expectant redhead, but neither Hermione nor Draco offered up an answer, so everything that had happened was simply left to speculation.

Still, everything seemed to have settled back into the natural rhythm again; the conversation didn't stop dead every time the two looked at each other, the rest of the group didn't have to continuously make efforts to push them back together, and, much to the entire school's relief, Ginny's temper seemed to have taken itself back to human level.

She really could rival her mother on a good day.

"So has word been spread?" Draco, Blaise, and Pansy nodded; the Slytherins, however few in number, had been told about the Room of Requirement.

Luna and Cho confirmed Ravenclaw.

Cedric gave a thumbs-up, and Hermione was already well aware that nearly all of Gryffindor knew about the "party" that was taking place on the third floor.

"Isn't it a bit stupid?" Ron grunted through the sausage in his mouth; Hermione rolled her eyes at the disgusting display of "Inside Ronald's Mouth." He seemed to realize this and swallowed before continuing. "I mean, Umbridge's office is a grand total of forty meters down the hall; isn't it a bit of a risk on our part?" Hermione took a glance to Draco and remembered his words.

"No more than anything else we do," she stated simply and went back to her eggs.

"Who are you; and what have you done with Hermione?" She raised an eyebrow at Harry who had his mouth set in a confused line.

"I don't understand, Harry. You've known about my support in this from day one; if I remember right, and I'm sure you do, too, I've been the one trying to convince you to lead." He nodded, eyeing her suspiciously.

"Our Hermione would be biting her fingernails in anticipation right now, though," he explained, still surveying her. Draco seemed to be as uncomfortable with Harry 'checking out' his girlfriend as she was. "You seem rather calm about the fact that we could get expelled. Or, rather, I could get expelled; the Ministry's got it in for me apparently."

Hermione began to understand what was going on, as was her gift of knowledge; although Harry was just an open book, and there was no need for 'people smarts' to know what he was thinking. It wasn't that he expected her to be nervous; he just wanted someone else to be nervous, telling him it was okay for him to be worried about teaching his fellow students defense that could, quite possibly, save their lives one day.

He wasn't suspicious of her; he just wanted her to tell him everything was going to be alright. After all, her judgment had never led him astray before.

"Harry, you're going to get up there tonight and do absolutely spectacularly. I do not know anyone in this school better qualified than Dumbledore himself—maybe Snape." He was not convinced, and she could tell, so she pleaded silently with Ginny to help out.

If there was one person he would listen to besides her, it was his girlfriend; put Voldemort up against her and she very well might be able to convince him to kill himself if she was in one of her moods.

"Harry James Potter, if you are fishing for compliments, then you can stop that right now," she scolded playfully, smacking him on the shoulder. "Do you want us to think you're an incompetent idiot with nothing more than a wand and some words?"

"Well, no, but…"

"Then stop saying it, or that's what we're going to think." It was rather good logic when one thought of it that way. "You don't need anyone to tell you how well you're going to do or how much you know about what you're going to do; you already know you have everything you need, everything's prepared, and all the people you need behind you are behind you."

"Well put, Ginny." She bowed her head in mock acceptance.

"It's a gift and a curse."

"What, being able to talk anyone into doing or thinking what you want?" Ron snorted as he bit into more sausage.

"Do you ever stop thinking of your stomach?" Ron didn't know whether to look at his sister or Hermione, for they had both rolled their eyes and spoken at the same time; it was so perfect it was scary. He chose to look at Ginny, though, as there was a greater chance of her killing him than that of his ex-girlfriend.

"And that would be a negative," Hermione snickered when the redhead snuck another bite when he thought the girls had stopped glaring. The group laughed, but when Hermione realized the Great Hall population was decreasing and they were still in it, she realized they were going to be late for early morning double DADA—Gryffindor and Slytherin—and forced her friends to finish before grabbing her bag.

Only Hermione would be ten minutes early for a class rather than just on time like everyone else.

Still, it would be imperative in the coming weeks to remain as inconspicuous as possible in Umbridge's eyes, not to mention avoid as many detentions as possible—Hermione's thoughts drifted to Harry. He was going to have to watch himself until further notice, or Dumbledore's Army was out of a professor.

Between making up with Draco and falling asleep last night, Hermione had looked at the list of recruits from the Hogsmeade meeting and separated the names onto four pieces of parchment based on houses and performed a simplified Concealment Charm on all four; the same charm that saved Harry from having to give up the "harmless piece of parchment" that was the Marauder's Map.

However, only certain people could unlock each list. For instance, the Hufflepuff list would only reveal itself if Cedric Diggory said his full name and it would only unlock if he said it in his voice; of course, this meant a Polyjuice-impersonator could unlock it, so they also had to say 'Triwizard.'

Ravenclaw would unlock for Luna and Cho, and the speaker also had to say 'Quibbler.'

Slytherin unlocked for Draco, Blaise, and Pansy, and the password was 'Parselmouth.'

Gryffindor unlocked for Ginny and 'chamber of secrets', and all four unlocked if Harry, Ron, or Hermione said their names and their all-access pass, 'Dobby's socks.' It was the most random thing they could think of that no one would guess.

By the time she had finished all four, she had definitely been ready for bed and had promptly passed out in her four-poster, but not before coming up with a sealing word: 'Professor.' That way, if even Umbridge grabbed it from their hands and they said a surprised 'professor,' the names would un-ink before she could get anything out of it.

Then she had passed out.

Total, there were forty people signed up for Dumbledore's Army, and thirty of them had no idea where to be at seven o'clock that night.

At breakfast, she gave the lists to the different house 'leaders' with instructions; find all the names on the list and tell them how to get to the meeting place—third floor, three times, and think _I need to find Dumbledore's Army_ three times. They nodded and hurried to find as many as they could before their first class, and Hermione began her quest. Luckily, they had the added advantage of the majority of members being in fourth or fifth year with only five older members in Gryffindor; Fred and George, Lee Jordan, Katie, and Angela—the Quidditch team.

Everyone else was far too busy sucking up to Umbridge and the Ministry to believe Harry.

For Draco, Blaise, and Pansy, the job was much easier; Daphne Greengrass and a fourth year were the only other Slytherins that didn't have any intention of joining Voldemort.

"Miss Granger," the sickly sweet voice disintegrated her ear drums, "early as usual."

"To be early is to be on time," she recited to the professor, trying to sound as innocent as possible. It seemed to work; she got only an ugly look, but no suspicion in those beady eyes. "Will we be discussing the attack on Hogsmeade at all, Professor, or will we be reviewing Chapter 14 of Defensive Theory?" She hoped her question sounded harmless; she wanted to know if the Ministry would be acknowledging any possibility of the Death Eater attack being sanctioned by Voldemort rather than "an event of random chance."

"I will discuss the lesson plan when the entire class is present, Miss Granger." The toad continued to wave her wand at the chalk as it wrote out the theory they would be writing about and the three questions they were to answer by the end of class; it was becoming so routine—their secret defense class would be way better.

The closer the clock ticked to seven o'clock, the more often she found herself checking the time, and first period hadn't even begun yet! By dinner, she was going to be a mass ball of excited nerves, and there would be only one cure; Dumbledore's Army.

The first meeting hadn't even started and she was already addicted to the rush of breaking rules and finally being able to learn again. This useless twaddle, writing things already published in a book, did nothing to stimulate her mind. She learned nothing by writing what she had read. Hermione had to practice what she read, wave her wand in the pattern demonstrated in the book, speak the words, and do the spell.

Hermione was a practical girl who enjoyed the practical part of class; not theory. Although she was not as adept as Harry at real-world applications, although he had only used disarming spells and the occasional shield charm, she still loved the thrill of accomplishing something, like correctly performing a spell or producing a near-perfect Potion—Snape would never give a Gryffindor such a high honor.

At long last, the entire class managed to file in; Harry wasn't even late.

"Welcome back, class. I hope you all enjoyed your first Hogsmeade visit of the year?" The toad gave another sickly sweet smile; it was a miracle no one had caught forty students wondering off to the Hogs Head, which was not on the Ministry-sanctioned part of town. "Though I was not one of the teachers along, I heard you ran into a few of the escaped Death Eaters. They seem to have gone mad from Azkaban and are acting under the impression their Lord released them."

She snorted as though the very idea was preposterous—not true. The group had taken to placing Harry next to Hermione during class so she could grip his robes under the table and keep him from rising. It also gave her the ability to pinch him if he seemed to be ready to pounce on the hag.

Her presence and ability to see a confrontation coming from a mile away had saved the Army's leader from certain year-round detention. He had improved, however; at the beginning of the year, he would have pounced on the "Dark Lord is not back" implication. The only thing that set him off really was denouncing Dumbledore's name or praising Fudge's; even attacking him did nothing.

"This is, of course, a lie, fabricated and embellished by the ranting escapees of Azkaban and supported by the Headmaster." To his credit, Harry barely flinched. The only indication that he was ready to attack was the tension-and-release in his arms, which Hermione only noticed because she had already grabbed one to keep him from retaliating.

_Isn't it obvious?_ Hermione smiled politely at Umbridge, but inside she was gloating. _You've already lost: Harry isn't fighting back in public anymore because we've already won. You just don't know it yet._

It came as no surprise that they spent the remainder of class copying notes, answering questions, and mentally bashing the Ministry, their representatives, and their idea of teaching.

* * *

Draco was pleased that there were only two other Slytherin recruits; since he was an outcast, it would be highly suspicious for him to be conspiring with large amounts of his public enemies. This way, Pansy could pair with Daphne for information, Blaise could talk with the fourth year, and Draco could concentrate on helping with the planning and take care of any Prefect business.

Secretly, he was looking forward to bending the rules for the greater good for once. Before, he was only out after curfew because Harry was and he wanted to bust him or he was setting up some problems for teachers. He had never done something that could get him expelled, and certainly not to help others.

His tough-guy exterior completely dissolved, Draco Malfoy was now a softie and goodie-two-shoes through and through. And perhaps a few months ago, that thought would have made him cringe in disgust; a Slytherin with a Gryffindor personality was a curse, a fate worse than death.

Nott, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, scowled at him as they passed. Their eyes met with a flicker of dislike, and Draco realized there was a very large smirk on the other boy's face. It was quite apparent that Nott thought his being Draco's replacement as Slytherin Prince was quite an accomplishment; Draco couldn't have been happier to rid himself of the tragic title.

Still, the twisted snake was corrupting the minds of the few Slytherins who hadn't yet taken to their parents Death Eater fantasies, and as an outsider in his own House, there was nothing he could do; maybe some of that subtlety would have been useful a few weeks prior?

Not for the first time, Draco found himself cursing his selfish predisposition. For the entirety of his life, the blonde had placed so much stock in self-preservation, doing whatever it took to save himself; he had never had anyone else to save. After all, from day one he had been instructed in the ways of the Death Eaters, so he wasn't used to being on a side that cared about the wellbeing of its allies.

Had he not grown up the way he had, distrustful of the Headmaster and his ways, maybe he could have become a spy as Severus was and been useful.

But that was neither here nor there, and Draco cut his gaze off from the proud Slytherin's; let him have his moment. Everyone knew Draco was the true Snake Prince.

* * *

"Mister Malfoy, detention. Kindly stay awake, regardless of how much more _advanced_ you are than your fellow advanced students." The glare Severus leveled at him would have decimated a hundred armies, but Draco yawned and waved his hand lazily. It wasn't like it would even be a real detention; just more spy-Death Eater discussions of how to get Voldemort to trust Severus while _not_ handing over Harry or Draco.

Their schemes were coming up short of their previous ones, and it was becoming crystal clear that sooner or later, more likely sooner, Voldemort would discover where their true allegiances lay.

A scrap of paper flew into his lap and he gave a surprised jolt, looking around; no one was looking at him as he flipped the shred over.

_At least act like you care about this class; even though we all know you're perfect at Potions_.

So it was Hermione then.

**And you're perfect at everything else; why exactly do you pay attention.**

_You never know what you might learn._

**I know everything I need to know.**

"Mister Malfoy, what is the difference between monskhood and wolfsbane?" The blonde sat back on his chair and flipped his hair back from his eyes.

"Ask Potter, we all know he knows the answer." Harry, to his credit, looked amused; he knew now, of course, but that first year had not been fun—in more ways than one.

"Mister Malfoy," Snape said, choking back a smile, "I asked you."

"I'm well aware."

"Detention all week, Mister Malfoy." Draco was surprised to find that his godfather looked legitimately peeved. Was it possible he had been just a bit too disrespectful? It had, of course, never been an issue before, because he had always been on good terms with the man. Now, though, he was finding it was necessary to balance just how much defiance was shown.

Apparently, he hadn't found the balance yet.

* * *

"Do you think maybe Draco went a bit far?" Hermione whispered to Harry, who was just as shocked at her boyfriend's actions as she was.

"A bit? Hermione, Malfoy just destroyed half of Snape's image; he can't let Draco just get away with that—especially not if his cover is going to be kept." Hermione looked to where the blonde was beginning to look at least a little shamed.

"I would not want to be a part of that conversation," Ron muttered, stirring frog legs into the potion he and Harry were paired up on.

"Ron, don't!" The explosion not moments later explained everything, and it was with snickers and laughs that a blue-and-green-striped-Ron shuffled out of the classroom.

"You would do well, Mister Weasley, to pay attention from now on. Twenty points from Gryffindor and detention tonight; you can clean your mess."

"Bloody rotten git—it's hardly my fault—stupid Potion…" Ron managed to lose them another ten points on his way out the door.

* * *

Draco dragged his feet slowly back to his Prefect room; he hadn't actually imagined Severus would make him do a detention. Ron, of course, had earned his, but there had been nothing besides attitude to warrant cleaning the chalkboards without magic, clearing the school cauldrons—also without magic—and re-organizing the stores. They had not, as expected, discussed Voldemort and Severus' spy role.

Instead, Severus had given him the cold shoulder, only letting him out early because he knew about the meeting at nine. Ron had likewise been released early, and Draco was rather thankful they had made the man their secret keeper.

Still, he felt guilty about his behavior. He was all but throwing it in Severus' face that he was no longer under Voldemort's thumb while the Potions' Master had to act subservient to the prick, something that irked the proud and dignified Professor to no end. Perhaps he should be more understanding; there was a difference between showing opposition and just being a jackass.

Maybe the latter wasn't the way to go for once.

"Draco, you're going to be late!" He turned at the sound of his girlfriend's voice and smiled when he saw her bouncing towards him. It was undeniable how excited she was for this meeting; she had looked forward to nothing else since the planning.

"Don't worry, Hermione. I was just visiting the bathroom; I'll be there on time." She smiled and nodded, giving him a quick kiss before hurrying to the Room of Requirement to make sure everything was ready, though knowing her, it had been ready for at least twenty minutes now.

The Room certainly did not disappoint. Cushions, scarecrow enemies, cases of books, and shelves of Defense items littered the room, and everyone, save one or two late Gryffindors, was seated on a cushion, awaiting further instruction. He joined Hermione and the others at the front next to the podium.

The parchment in Hermione's hands told him she had a lesson plan; the look on Harry's face told him the other boy didn't, but that he would be winging it regardless. It was looking to be an interesting meeting already, not that it hadn't to begin with.

As the last person signed in, the parchment flew to Hermione's hands, and Harry tapped the podium to gain everyone's attention.

"Alright, so we're glad to see everyone made it." Draco listened with hidden disinterest as Harry talked about his experience with the Disarming Spell and how handy it had come for him; he was well aware of the teen's exploits and how dumb luck and simple spells fit into them.

"So pair up, and we'll come around to check on your progress. This lesson won't take long, but it needs to be done to near perfection; you'll never find a more basic spell that's more useful." The statement seemed designed to dare someone to contradict it; no one did, and how could they?

To know Harry had disarmed Death Eaters with it alone was enough, never mind that it stopped the Killing Curse, the fact that his and Voldemort's wands were brothers notwithstanding.

Draco found his way over to a group of Ravenclaw boys, unsurprised that his feet and sense of dislike had led him to Terry Boot. Of course he would make sure he was there so that Hermione could not be—the fact that she hated him did not matter in his chauvinistic mind.

And he was chauvinistic—to him, Hermione was his girl, and he would fight Heaven, Hell, and the Dark Lord to keep it that way, not that he would tell her that. She didn't seem the type of girl to take that line of thinking kindly.

All in all, the meeting went spectacularly well. Near the end, there was a dueling bracket that Hermione constructed. Basically, everyone was paired up, dueled until one person was disarmed, then the winner of each pairing went on to duel the winner of another pairing, and the winner got a small prize of ten galleons. Harry had said he was more than willing to donate to the cause; apparently he had enough to go around if they were only having one meeting per week.

"Alright, that was a great first meeting. Congratulations to Daphne for winning the dueling bracket." Everyone was confident that, had Harry competed, he would have won. "Once we've taught and strengthened the shield charm, the bracket should be much more interesting. Other than that…"

Harry found himself cut off when a door appeared and slammed open, Albus Dumbledore standing in the doorway, though he quickly moved in and allowed the door to disappear.

Students began scrambling; wondering what would happen to them for being involved in an illegal organization.

"Students, do not be alarmed. I am well aware of the situation; you are called Dumbledore's Army, are you not?" He winked at them before turning to Harry and Draco, who were standing next to each other. "Mister Potter, I would ask you to dissemble quickly while I speak with Mister Malfoy. You may then meet with him and your friends in Miss Granger's, or Mister Malfoy's Prefect rooms, shall I say?" He once more gave them a look that said not to think they had gotten away with everything.

"Mister Malfoy, we shall also discuss changing your room accommodations to be closer to the Gryffindor tower, if that is your wish. It will no longer be adjoining to your year's boy's dormitory as is customary with Prefect rooms. However, we have something more important to discuss that required immediate attention. Please follow—students, excellent progress. I do hope you apply this much effort to your regular studies." The twinkle in his eyes told them he knew this was not to be, but it also said he wouldn't expect it any other way. Still, the twinkle seemed dull, like something had happened.

Draco was not sure he wanted to know what had caused the old man's eyes to dull so much. He knew, however, that he would anyways, and that his friends would be waiting for an update, so he followed the Headmaster to the gargoyle on the third floor and up the spiral steps, declining the customary lemon drops, and waiting for the information.

"Draco, your godfather was summoned tonight, shortly after your detention. We thought it was a routine meeting. No, he has not been discovered," Dumbledore quickly assured Draco that his worst fears had not come true, "but your father"—Draco scoffed—"Lucius failed a very important mission for Lord Voldemort. Rather than simply punish Lucius, Voldemort punished all his followers, who will most likely find their own ways to punish Lucius for the damage inflicted upon them. In some ways, that is the worst torture of all," Dumbledore mused.

"Severus managed to get back and tell me all of this before falling into his Animagus form; I am sure you are aware most people heal faster in their animal forms." Draco nodded; something about the magical healing properties of certain animals compared to the human body. "He is in a back room in the Hospital Wing if you want to go visit him. You can get through from the door right there," he pointed to a door next to the exit, "and no one will see you with him, so you may both keep his cover safe." Draco nodded.

"Can—can I go see him now?" He was rather surprised at how well his voice held up through such a simple sentence; he was expecting to break down any moment now.

"Of course. Do not keep your friends waiting too long; they may think I kidnapped you," he chuckled, waving his hand and allowing the door to fall open. "I am sorry, Mister Malfoy."

"Me, too," Draco whispered to thin air, for the Headmaster had already disappeared behind another door.

The back room was very sparse; one bed and dresser, cleared off, as there were no get well cards written yet. A thick, black cloak and some robes were draped over the bedpost, but otherwise, the only other thing in the room was the dark black wolf curled in the middle of the bed.

Draco sat on the metal chair next to the bed and cringed at the dark spots indicating blood stains; the Mediwitch had not yet bathed him. He desperately wanted to hug the wolf, but he didn't want to hurt him anymore than already done; Madame Pomfrey was most likely waiting until Draco left so they could have some time together, so he thought it would be best if he left as soon as possible. It would not do to have Severus wait for treatment much longer.

"I love you, Severus. Please make it through safe; you're the only real family I've got left." Performing a quick cleaning charm on his hands, he stood and left the infirmary, mentally preparing himself for the retelling of the story to his friends.

He prayed he wouldn't get caught by the toad on the way back.

Apparently, someone was listening, because he made it safely to the portrait without any problems.

_"Narcissa."_ Nine voices simultaneously stopped and nine pairs of eyes turned on him. "That was creepy."

* * *

All in all, they had been very understanding. After he had explained the situation, everyone except Hermione, Blaise and Pansy had left, understanding his need for some alone time, and he had finally allowed the tears to come.

"He can't die," Draco whispered.

"Drake, Dumbledore said he would be fine, didn't he?" Pansy said rationally, giving him the tone that said he was blowing everything out of proportion and that there was no real need to be as worried as he was.

"Severus has been really worried about a lot lately, not the least of which is the DA, and I'm just not sure how the stress of everything combined with this physical injury is going to work out." Blaise and Pansy looked extremely concerned; Hermione had left to get him some chocolate to ease his nerves.

It was no secret among the three of them that Draco wanted to train to be a Mediwizard after everything was said and done. Had he ended up as a Death Eater, he would have petitioned Voldemort to allow him to be a medic for their side during the war; it was as close to being on the Light side as he had thought he could get before he had become friends with Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

Still, something he had come across in many of his independent summer studies was that only a handful of patients died from extreme mental duress. Many died from a physical injury caused by the mental duress, such as blood loss from cutting, starvation, lack of sleep, or something else, but not many died from the stress itself. Obviously a large amount died from physical problems.

But combing the physical implications of mental duress, like starvation and sleep deprivation, with something like Severus had gone through could turn out worse for the man than someone who was healthy to begin with. The energy it would take his magical core to repair everything, which it would force itself to do because it wasn't aware which problems it should fix first, could harm Severus even more.

Poppy would have to keep him under constant surveillance and provide him with Potions that he himself would have to make, which meant Draco was positive he would be applying for his Potions Apprenticeship early.

A Mediwizard had to be fully trained in Potions, and Draco had been planning on working as an apprentice under Severus. Hopefully, Poppy would allow him to assist in his godfather's recovery, because it would surely be the only way to keep himself occupied without constant worry.

"Draco, Severus has undoubtedly made it through worse," Hermione chimed in, bringing him a mug of hot chocolate made from Honeydukes' cocoa powder. "Plus, with Madame Pomfrey, a fully-certified Mediwitch, and you, a Mediwizard-in-training, how can he not make it through this? And," she continued, "you said he's in his Animagus form right now, which means his magical stores are amplified and replenish quicker, so even if it takes more to heal himself, he was able to transform before he passed out, meaning he has the necessary energy and the ability to restore it quick enough where it won't cause any permanent damage."

How she had managed to get that all out so quickly, he was not sure.

"Basically," she finally said, attempting to say what she had already in a more concise manner, "there is no extreme reason Severus should not make it through this in one piece. It may take awhile, but all serious healings do, and if he's been under mental duress, you're going to have to put extra attention into all the healing processes. I have no doubt you and Madame Pomfrey can pull him through, Draco, especially you."

As he answered, he realized Pansy and Blaise had quietly slipped out.

"Why especially me?"

"Why wouldn't he come back for you, Draco? He loves you like a son, and no father would leave their son willingly, no matter what the circumstances." She said it so forcefully and stared so powerfully into his eyes, that he almost had to believe her.

Almost.

"I guess we'll see," he mumbled, staring out charmed window that was currently blasting torrents of rain at the glass, mimicking his emotions.

He realized, as he sat with Hermione, that the wolf he had heard the night they almost kissed after the ball was most likely his godfather, as Lupin was no longer present at the school. He had been so peeved with the howler, cursing it for ruining his almost-kiss with his then-almost-girlfriend.

What he wouldn't give to hear it again—he really didn't know what he'd had until it was hanging in the balance.

Draco barely noticed another line of the forgotten song drift into nothingness.

* * *

**A/N:**_ VampireAlchemist:_ Oh, I've probably lost so many loyal readers because of my busy schedule!

_Daphne Greengrass:_ You should update more, or I'll beat you. I won the dueling bracket, you know.

_VampireAlchemist:_ Because everyone cares.

_Everyone:_ We care.

_Daphne Greengrass:_ See!

_VampireAlchemist:_ Everyone that **matters** doesn't care.

_Everyone that matters:_ We don't.

_VampireAlchemist:_ See. Now, what do we say?

_Daphne Greengrass and Everyone:_ **Please Review!**

_Everyone that matters:_ We don't care.

_VampireAlchemist: _*bares fangs*

_Everyone that matters:_ **Please Review!**

_VampireAlchemist:_ I am so good. Two in one drabble. Please Review! Ooh, three!!

_**Next Chapter:**_ _White or Copper Skinned_


	14. White or Copper Skinned

**A/N:** It's been awhile hasn't it? I was rather hoping to finish by Christmas, but that seems to have been a bust. I'm thinking there will be two chapters after this, not including a possible epilogue. This story will not have a sequel; please do not demand one :)

Enjoy Chapter 14!

* * *

_For Whether We Are White or Copper Skinned We Need To Sing With All the Voices of the Mountain_

_

* * *

_It was definitely not the easiest week for Draco.

On the one hand, he could feel his sanity slowly returning from the song curse that Hermione had cast. They had decided to classify it as a curse considering _finite Incatatum _did not work and there was no countercharm.

On the other hand, his sanity was slowly being taken from him again every time he thought of Severus hurting in the infirmary. He appreciated Hermione, Pansy, and Blaise trying to be there for him—the others weren't sure of how to deal with something so depressing when it came to Draco—but Severus filled an emotional, familial hole in his heart that no one else could fill.

Lucius had certainly never been the caring, guiding figure Draco needed in a father, and Severus had been there when Lucius was out trying to be the next Dark Lord. To him, Severus wasn't just an asset to the light side; he was the only family he had left, and he had never realized how important his family was to him until it was on the brink of being gone.

* * *

Her mother had once told her that life's hardest tests would not come in a classroom, and there was no answer key, no pass or fail. She had laughed it off, saying there was no test she couldn't ace.

At this point, she wasn't so sure.

These days, Draco was like a short fuse waiting to blow on anyone that said the wrong thing or moved the wrong way. Hermione knew it for what it was, and though she tried to be understanding, she was also firm—she would not allow his coping method to hurt himself or the others around him.

Still, she wasn't sure of how to help Draco in such a time; she'd never lost anyone, and certainly not someone who had been in her life since birth. Blaise and Pansy were at just as much of a loss as she was; neither of them was close enough to any of their family to care about them getting hurt. Apparently, Death Eater families weren't very close, though that didn't come as much of a surprise to her.

Free period came around, and Hermione was still thinking about the same thing—how could she help Draco without making him feel like she didn't care? Decision made, she stood and headed for the infirmary; there was only one person she could ask, and right now he was a wolf.

* * *

"Have you guys seen Hermione?" Draco was asking around, checking for his girlfriend, but no one had seen her since third period it seemed. She had never even signed into the free period list (to ensure no one skipped class of course), and he was beginning to get worried. It wasn't like her to blow off three of her classes, no matter if they were History of Magic, Arithmancy, and Ancient Runes.

"Draco, you're telling me she hasn't been to any of her classes since free period?" Ron had heard through the grapevine that she was missing, and he and Harry came running up to him. The blonde shook his head and continued to rack his brain for anywhere she might be.

"Draco, I'm sure she's fine; this is Hermione we're talking about." Harry knew his words were falling on deaf ears; after having Snape in the infirmary and now his girlfriend missing, nothing was going to get through to him very well.

"Don't patronize me, Potter." Harry's expression hardened; this was getting to be ridiculous.

"Malfoy, go talk to Dumbledore--nothing in the school gets by him. Not even me," he added, seeing Draco's annoyed look. Finally giving in, realizing he didn't have much of a choice, Draco shuffled to the gargoyle, Ron and Harry behind him. When they made it to the statue, they stood, realizing they didn't have the password. Harry rolled his eyes and stepped up.

"Licorice wands. Bertie Botts' Every Flavor Beans. Lemon Drops. Fizzing Whizbees." He was starting to run out of Wizarding candies. "Gummy Bears." The gargoyle sprang aside. Of course the Professor would have some sort of muggle candy for a password.

"Harry, how did you guess my password?" Dumbledore looked thoroughly amused.

"You don't eat a lot of hard foods at dinner; I had to assume you couldn't eat hard candies anymore. And you've never been one to only pick wizarding sweets."

"Ah, yes, very good. Now, I assume young Draco is here to speak to me?" The man turned his twinkling blue gaze on the Slytherin.

"I was wondering, sir, if you'd seen Hermione." He prayed for one answer, and one answer alone.

_I have._

Draco and the rest were relieved when the spoken answer matched the one they prayed for.

"But I cannot tell you where she is. She has asked for my vow of secrecy to all parties," Dumbledore said, smiling, letting his eyes slide over the entire group, particularly Draco. The blonde glared; that someone has old and clearly senile as Dumbledore was keeping him from his Hermione was rather irritating to say the least. Still, there was nothing for it.

"Sir, when you see her, could you tell her…Never mind." Dumbledore saw the deflation of all three involved, though he suspected Harry and Ron's were for a different reason than young Master Malfoy's.

"I will tell her you were worried and looking for her, Mister Malfoy. Might I suggest a walk around the grounds to cool your heels?" Restraining himself from openly glaring coldly at the man, Draco inhaled and looked back at the Headmaster.

"That is quite alright, Headmaster. I will see Hermione at breakfast tomorrow; there's no need to tell her I was by. Good night." Suddenly, Albus Dumbledore realized what had caused the mood drop in his two Gryffindors. Draco, it seemed, was pushing all his emotions back in an effort to keep the ones that threatened to explode, the ones that involved Severus, from bursting through his chest.

"Mister Weasley, I think it be best if you were off as well, unless you wish to wait for young Harry. I would like to have some words with him."

"I'll be just outside, mate. G'nite, sir." The redhead, knowing when he was being dismissed, walked briskly to the door after the blonde who had glided out after his final words. When the door closed softly, Harry let out a sigh; he was slightly amused when Dumbledore released one as well.

"Harry, in such times when we are alone, it does not do to isolate ourselves as Mister Malfoy has done." The boy nodded. All of them had noticed how detached Draco was becoming; it was his way of coping.

"I know, sir. I just don't know what to do. How do you talk to someone who may lose the only person left close to him?" Harry had not been particularly close to anyone who had died. In that regard, he had certainly been lucky, but how could he possibly talk to Draco, who could lose the only person he cared about who cared about him—in his mind anyways.

"By reassuring him there are more people that are close to him, my boy." Harry nodded.

"Thank you, sir. When you find Hermione, tell her to wait for us back in the rooms. I think I know where Draco's going, and I think if Hermione interrupts, I won't get as far." Dumbledore nodded.

"You are most welcome, Harry. You do take care of your friends, don't you?" Harry smiled; his friends seemed like the Fate's way of apologizing for his horrible family, and he'd be damned before he let anyone hurt them, especially themselves.

"Always, Professor." After he left, he and Ron walked down the halls, roaming the corridors until they found the windows facing the Quidditch Pitch; a blonde head of hair was making its way quickly towards the Stadium, and Harry suppressed a smile. For two people so against each other for four years, they were so alike.

"Ron, I'll meet you back at Hermione's Prefect Rooms in about an hour—maybe a little longer. _Accio Firebolt!_" The broom flew outside, presumably from under his bed where he left it, out of an open window and around the castle, coming to land in front of him outside of the window. He hopped on and made a beeline for the Pitch.

When he got there, he saw Draco just taking off and stood off to the side to give him at least a little of the alone time he came for. When he heard the first choked sob, he realized the Slytherin hadn't needed any alone time, and he wasted no time climbing onto his broom and slowly floating up to match his height.

"Draco." The name was spoken simply to garner a bit of attention from the boy, who was attempting to wipe his eyes free of tears.

"Harry, I'm not in the mood right now. I just want to—."

"Think? Be alone? Brood and mope over how it's not fair? Draco, I can tell you right now that sitting up here never does anything if you're alone, but I don't need to—you already know that." From the flicker to a far corner of the pitch, Harry saw the answer in the blonde's eyes. "Let me help you, Draco. We're not just friends anymore. You're dating my best friend, and they're closer to me than my relatives. You're family now."

The word, Harry noticed, caused a choked sob to come from the blonde as he struggled to remain composed.

"None of us can even pretend to know how this feels, Draco. Actually, I take that back. Ron and I had to watch Hermione petrified for half of second year and they've had to see me on the hospital bed more times than I can count, including after seeing the Dark Lord in the graveyard. We do know what you're going through."

"But he's the only family I have, Harry." Finally, Draco managed to say more than a word or emit more than a strangled sound. Distractedly, Harry noticed their brooms were beginning to come towards the ground.

"You guys are my family, Draco. We are the weirdest combination of people I have ever seen, but we are a family. We care for each other the same way parents are supposed to care for their kids, or Snape cares for you." As his broom hit the ground, Draco collapsed into a heap, letting his face fall into his hands.

"I don't think I can do it, Harry. I know, mentally, he's coming back. But emotionally, I can't keep the image of him dying out of my head and it scares me so much. How do you deal with it? How am I supposed to put those images aside and be happy, even when he's alive?" Harry awkwardly wrapped his arms around the Slytherin; it was a weird out-of-body moment for him.

"You stop being a pessimist or a realist or whatever it is in your mind that is focusing on the death, and channel it into being glad for the life. You don't get to flip on your concern like a light switch."

"Like a what?" Muggle-term. Oops, he forgot.

"Never mind. The point is you need to straighten up and realize you have more than just Snape now. That doesn't mean you should pay any less attention to Snape—especially now—but it does mean that you need to let us help you with some of the burden. Talk to us, any of us…we WANT to help you." Harry thought he saw the beginnings of tears in Draco's eyes, but the blonde quelled them almost immediately.

"Harry, do you know what it's like to be alone your entire life? To have guardians that don't care about you, who want you to become dark or don't say anything one way or the other? To have one person come around for holidays and summer who actually taught you things and made you feel appreciated?" Harry's eyes widened in disbelief; maybe Harry and Draco had a lot more in common than he previously thought.

"No, Draco, I don't. But I do know what it's like to have guardians who wish you were dead and no one to come around for summer and holidays. I know what it's like to be ordered around like a house elf without a single 'good-job' or way to go before being shut into a broom closet under the stairs. I know what it's like to worry whether someone you love is going to come out of a coma or being petrified. Draco, if anyone can understand what you're going through, I guarantee it's me." The Slytherin looked downright disgusted when Harry mentioned his broom closet, but finally realized maybe Harry had a point.

"So you think I should go talk to him." It wasn't a question; Draco had been avoiding the Hospital Wing like the plague, afraid of seeing his godfather so prone and vulnerable. Still, every time that awful substitute taught their class, Draco was reminded of the missing factor.

"I think you should do whatever you want," Harry said slowly, not wanting to sound domineering. "But I do think it would be good for both of you if the one person in your life you can count on had a few visits from the one person in his life that he can count on." That did it.

"Will you…come with? I don't want Pans or Blaise to see me like this and I can't find Hermione." It didn't hurt that he was fourth on Draco's list—after four years of hate towards one another, Harry was surprised he wasn't hanging in last.

"I'd be happy to, Draco. Come on." Their brooms shrunk and Harry fit them into his pocket before following the blonde, whose steps were becoming quicker. After avoiding Snape for so long, it seemed that he was finally ready to see and say what he had been unwilling to before.

However, none of them had been expecting to see someone already there, talking to a still-sleeping wolf like it was awake as anyone else in the room.

**

* * *

**

"Professor Snape, I know you don't particularly like me," Hermione muttered. She had never done this before, and in many ways, it was like talking to herself. Were the muggle theories of coma patients hearing people talk to them true? Would he remember anything she said? Taking a deep breath, she plowed ahead.

"But you're important to Draco, and that means, whether you like it or not, you're important to me. Draco, he's like a short fuse since you went into a coma, or whatever it is you're in. Regardless of how many people tell him you're just healing, that you'll be back on your feet once your stores have replenished, he seems like he's pushing everything and everyone away."

He had pushed her away, and Blaise and Pansy had become isolated as well. None of the rest of their group had dared to approach him, not willing to incur the wrath of his infamous temper. It could rival Harry's at times.

"I think he's scared he's going to lose you, so he's pushing everyone away. That way, if he loses them, it won't hurt as much. Professor, you know him better than anyone else. I wish I knew what you knew about him. I wish I could help him the way you could if you were here." Tears streamed down her cheeks and she wiped them away, furious with herself as she dampened her robe sleeve.

Eventually she pulled herself back together and started in on just talking to the man, hoping she would come up with something to help Draco. She didn't realize Harry had already done it.

"There's a theory in the muggle world, though I'm not sure if it holds true in this one as well." She was starting to become more relaxed, like this Snape, the quiet one who listened (by choice or not), actually cared what she had to say. "Supposedly, people in a coma are still conscious of the world outside them; they just can't respond to it, which means you can hear me. The theory is that hearing an outside voice makes the person realize they are still alive and encourages them back faster.

"I know hearing my voice must seem like a personal hell for you," she choked on a laugh. "I know if Draco came to visit, you'd wake up faster, but Draco's afraid that if he sees you, it'll make it harder if you don't pull through."

"I guess he doesn't realize how much you both need him to come. You need him to wake up faster; you give him a reason to keep fighting against everything he's known for something better, where the two of you can be free to be open about who you are and not hide under the guise of evil Death Eater status."

She knew as well as everyone else that hearing Harry or herself talk about how they needed to fight on Harry's side was pure propaganda, whether they wanted it that way or not. To hear someone like Snape, who had guided him his entire life, tell him the Dark Lord was clinically insane was a wake-up call like no other.

Draco needed Snape more than he knew. Snape, on the other hand, knew just how much of a factor Draco was in his continued desire to fight, which was why Snape desperately needed Draco to visit—to tell him everything the man had done in his life was worth it, and that Draco still needed him.

"You need Draco, Professor—that much is obvious. You need him to tell you this isn't all in vain; that everything you're doing is worth it. I can tell you it, and so can Harry or Professor Dumbledore, but you need someone close to you to tell you just how important you are to the cause, because you don't care about the cause—you care about Draco and keeping him safe.

"He knows it, Professor. I just don't think he realizes how much you need to hear it." She didn't notice the door open and two boys walk in, listening to her completely one-sided conversation with the resident Potions Master.

"Hermione." Though it was quietly spoken, the bushy-haired witch started at the sound of her name. It couldn't have been Snape, who was still curled into a pile of fur, but then she recognized the smooth, even tone of her Slytherin and blushed as she turned to look at him.

**

* * *

**

He knew he had startled his girlfriend, but he couldn't resist chuckling at her excited exclamation that he had actually showed up to talk to his godfather.

"You're finally here!" Nodding, he walked over to stand at her side, choosing to look at her rather than his sleeping godfather.

"Harry convinced me it was time to pull my head out of my arse and think of someone besides myself—namely Severus." Harry blushed.

"I didn't quite use those words," he muttered, leaving the three of them alone in peace. He was quite frightened of the Hospital Wing considering every time he was there, Madame Pomfrey assumed he was injured in some way; which he usually was. Most of his more unpleasant memories had occurred in the infirmary.

"He didn't," Draco affirmed after the Boy-Who-Lived had left. "However, he did make me realize Severus needed me more than I needed to be alone." Hermione nodded, silently thanking Merlin that Harry was not as thick as he used to be. The boy had a habit of being utterly and unbearably blind when it came to more complex emotions. Maybe not as much as Ron, but he certainly had his own way of being thickheaded.

She stood and wrapped her arms around him, feeling the telltale tremors indicating that he was about to begin sobbing. Moments later, the shoulder of her robes became damp and she put one hand on his head, carding her fingers through his hair in soothing manner.

It came as no surprise to her; he had been desperately shielding his emotions for the last week, so when he finally let go, of course it was like a tidal wave, threatening to demolish everything in its path.

"Talk to him, Draco. Tell him anything, everything. Let him know you still care and that you're here." Hermione let herself drift into a corner, pulling out a book and giving Draco the sense that she was there, but attempting not to listen. He smiled; could he have asked for a more perfect girlfriend? Could he have asked for a more perfect friend?

"I'm sorry I haven't been to visit, Sev," he whispered, taking Hermione's vacated seat. "I couldn't stand to see the one person in my life that had been there forever; I couldn't stand to see you. You've been like a pillar for me, as clichéd as that sounds. I'm not sure if you know what it feels like to see the one person you've looked to for everything put in a position like you. What if Dumbledore walked in here, unable to heal himself, looking on the brink of death?" The tears flew again, but he made no attempt to stop them. There was nothing to hide anymore, and no one to hide from.

"I was afraid to see you in any way less than the perfect picture I'd painted you as, because I thought I wouldn't make it, but you've proved me wrong, Sev. I can only think of you as stronger because of this. You're going to pull through, which is more than I could say for myself. I'm sorry, Severus." He sighed, putting a hand on his godfather's furry head. It was almost comical that his stern and strict godfather could look so unthreatening.

"So, in other news," he started rather lamely, grasping for another topic. "Did you know I've been cursed? For about four months now," he chuckled. Hermione looked slightly alarmed that he was talking about the curse so easily, but she fell back into reading; whatever he needed to talk about, he would.

"When you assigned Hermione that detention right near the start of term, what would you have done if you realized that led to us being together? I mean, I chose to not follow Voldemort because of everything he did, but I probably would have died in the first week after disobeying him if she hadn't cursed me.

"It's probably the best thing that ever happened to me, being cursed," he sighed. "I hear this song in my head over and over. It was bloody annoying in the beginning, but after she started to explain it to me, what it all means, I've sort of gotten to live it. Not that I want to go through it again anytime soon, but it's still incredible.

"It's almost gone, too. I guess what hurts most is that it took you almost being killed to get rid of all those damned wolf lines; who knew they meant a real wolf? I have heard the wolf cry, but I didn't appreciate it, and those lines disappeared when I realized you might disappear as well." He never noticed Hermione lift off her chair and wrap her arms around him; he was crying too hard.

"You've taught me everything, Severus, and I never learned. You showed me everything, but I never saw. You told me everything, and I never listened. Every attempt of yours to get me to see what I really needed was destroyed by every falsehood Lucius uttered. My shelves at home are filled with books you bought me about World War II, and I never saw the similarities—the genocide of a race that has every right to live as much as we do."

"They can't perform magic, but what they can do is its own form of magic, and they don't deserve to be annihilated. If we could work together, do you think anyone realizes what we could accomplish?" He was shaking, but in anger or sadness, he did not now. Hermione kept her hold on him, rubbing soothing circles into his back as he continued to talk. In some ways, he felt talking to Severus was more beneficial to him.

"Voldemort is stark-raving mad—we should be trying to work with the muggles, not destroying them. The world can't work right if we're all against each other. Besides, there're nowhere near enough wizards to keep the Earth properly populated," he chuckled. "Somehow, I don't think the Dark Lord considered that."

Sighing, he stood up. He would come back every day if that was what it took, but he would not leave Severus' side again. Hermione, once more, had been right, and he didn't think he could take being away from his godfather much longer anyways.

Turning around, he held her chin in his hands and captured her lips in a soft kiss, filling it with as much love and gratitude as he could convey. She had done this for him, tried to help him, and stood by him, despite his downright aggravating attitude.

Her arms wrapped around his neck and she pulled him closer, which he gladly helped with. She was so selfless, so willing to help her friends; it was one of the many things he loved most about her.

"I love you, Hermione," he whispered against her lips. "Thank you so much." The last part was accompanied by a few tears, which she kissed away.

"Never thank me for something like this, Draco. I do it to make sure you're happy. I do it because I love you," she replied, staring into his eyes. "But I think you owe Harry a bit of thanks; I'm glad he finally knocked a little sense into you."

"I'm not thanking him like I thanked you," he muttered, causing her to laugh.

"I should hope not! However, I think a simple handshake should suffice." He nodded, burying his face in her neck, hugging her close to him.

He had long since given up how many lines of the song he had gotten rid of; he didn't feel himself going insane like she had claimed it was supposed to do so long ago, and he was starting to get accustomed to it. Still, that didn't mean he didn't notice when yet another line of the song disappeared.

**

* * *

**

"Draco!" Pansy and Blaise found it necessary to ambush their friend just moments after leaving Severus' private infirmary room, so Hermione smiled and left him to talk with them, telling him she would see him at dinner.

The fact that Snape was not teaching class did not mean the teacher had not followed his lesson plans; the man, it seemed, was extremely organized, and the substitute followed his instructions to the letter—including essay topics and due dates.

Signing into the library, she sat at her usual study table and began pulling books off the shelves about the different poisons and their antidotes that had been assigned. Her mind began drifting as she wrote her standard introduction, including the topic and a brief description, concluding with the thesis. It was a habit from her muggle primary school writing classes and it had never failed her in essay writing before.

So ingrained was it, that she was able to think back to the Hospital Wing and the recent events while still writing a top-mark deserving essay. Finally, Draco had gone to see his godfather!

But why had he talked about the curse? Surely it had long ago become rather unimportant? Of course, they still worked through it, line by line, but had Draco talked about it for the sake of Hermione, who had indeed been listening (how could she not?) or was there something he was trying to work out for himself and talking to his godfather helped?

Regardless, Hermione's heart had fluttered when Draco said it was almost gone. He hadn't been straightforward with her recently on how much had disappeared, but he had seemed happier in the last few days before Severus landed in the Hospital Wing.

The telltale rustling of many sets of feet gave them away.

"You might as well come out; I know you're there," she called, quietly enough that Madame Pince wouldn't yell at her, but loud enough for them to hear behind the bookshelf. She didn't look up; she should have.

"Know everything, do you, Mudblood?" Three impeccably dressed Slytherins were staring her down—Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle. It seemed like Draco's spot had been left wide open, and Crabbe and Goyle had selected their new leader. Somehow, Nott just didn't have Draco's ability to start and end fights in a delicate manner. Draco never came with three-on-one. He always had Crabbe and Goyle backing him up, and he always attacked the three of them together.

Nott seemed perfectly content to attack Hermione on her own, and she was suddenly struck with just how wrongly they had judged Draco in the past.

Unwilling to deal with any stupid antics, she subtly flicked her wand under the table, disarming the three of them and locking them in full body-binds. She had long since gotten over being scared when the big bad Slytherins came after her. Instead, she learned defensive techniques.

"I know what I need to learn, Nott," she said easily, taking a few of the books to check out and putting the rest away. It seemed she would be finishing the rest of her essay in her rooms; hopefully no one bothered her.

Still, looking at the bound Slytherins, she felt her prankster side coming out and couldn't resist—she pointed her wand, charming their hair, providing for some interesting entertainment at dinner.

**

* * *

**

Draco found it odd that his girlfriend wasn't joining the rest of the Hall, including Dumbledore and the rest of the Professors, in laughter when the three sulked during dinner, hair flashing vibrant, neon hues. Nott looked particularly spectacular in pink, Draco chuckled.

He chalked her lack of amusement up to her dislike of house prejudiced pranks; he never suspected her to be behind it all.

Still, it was entertaining to hear Nott complain that washing it had simply caused his hands to contract the same hex, which explained the gloves on all three.

Life was certainly looking up.

* * *

_VampireAlchemist:_ Oh, Draco, don't jinx yourself, dear!

_Snape:_ *howls*

_VampireAlchemist:_ Who's a good little Severus? *scratches ears*

_Draco:_ He's not a dog, lady...he could bite you!

_VampireAlchemist:_ He wouldn't; I haven't made him wake up yet.

_Draco:_ But what about after he wakes up?

_VampireAlchemist:_ I can always bite him...

_Snape:_ *howls*

_Draco: _Please Review!

_**Next Chapter**: Paint With All the Colors of the Wind_


	15. Paint With All the Colors of the Wind

**A/N:** Well, this has certainly been an adventure. When I started this story, I was halfway through my freshman year of high school. Next week Saturday, I graduate. (Hope that explains some of the differences in writing from chapter to chapter). I hope I still have some readers left to enjoy the penultimate chapter of Colors of the Wind, and check in the next 2 weeks for the finale!

* * *

_We Need to Sing With All the Voices of the Mountain We Need to Paint With All The Colors of the Wind_

* * *

One week later, Severus still wasn't awake. During these seven days, though, Draco managed to make at least two visits per day. Sometimes he would read something out of the paper and sometimes he would talk about how absolutely out-of-her-mind the Toad was, but he never stopped talking.

Every day, he prayed he would hear a response.

On the seventh day, he fell asleep during his after-dinner discussion about the latest prank—Nott, Crabbe, and Goyle had spent half of dinner believing they were woodland creatures. Nott had stuffed half a bowl of peanuts into his left cheek.

Draco had fallen forward, arms cushioning his head like a pillow as he unconsciously tried to make himself comfortable to no avail. Hospital wings were not designed to be comfortable—the idea was to get out as soon as possible after all.

So when Hermione came down to read in the corner as she always did when Draco came down after dinner that was how she found him— exhausted and half-asleep. It wasn't Draco who surprised her, though.

It was the wolf on the bed. Rather, it was the man lying where the wolf had been. Severus Snape, still unconscious, was at least out of his Animagus form.

* * *

"Did you hear? Snape's out of his Animagus!" The news spread through the group of ten like wildfire. Suddenly everyone was on edge; it had taken so long for his magical stores to build up enough to sustain him like this. How much longer would it take before he could wake up? Madame Pomfrey assured them it would not be nearly as long, but as far as a timeline, she could give none.

So there were still daily visits and discussions. Hermione was proud of her Slytherin; after one very hard push in the right direction and one uncomfortable discussion with his unconscious godfather, the rest of their one-sided talks had been very relaxing for the blonde. He could concentrate better during classes, he paid more attention to his surroundings rather than walking around like a zombie, and he was much more attentive to Hermione.

She wasn't sure how to feel about the last one.

It was strange, but after talking to Severus every day, Draco had become hyper-aware of everyone and everything around him. Hermione, being his girlfriend and thus the half the center of his world (the other half being Severus), was the biggest target of his new hyper-awareness.

"What's wrong, Hermione?"

He had, again, caught her in one of her musings about his new attitude.

"Just thinking—nothing new." He studied her; she knew he didn't believe her half-lie, but he also seemed to realize pressing on would only lead to a fight—one he would not win—so he left it alone, choosing instead to wrap his arm around her waist and continue listening to the group conversation.

Luna was discussing Fharaspurts. Only Ron was paying any sort of attention, and he wasn't really paying attention to every word either.

One definite advantage to his new attitude was his lack of interest in starting fights. The boy had at least learned when to keep his mouth shut to prevent World War III from breaking out in the Great Hall, Quidditch Pitch, or wherever they happened to be standing at the time.

Before Luna could mention the magical healing power these creatures had on the human eye, though, a message dropped from the floo. The seal on the envelope indicated it was from Dumbledore, and it was addressed to Draco.

_ Hospital Wing. Immediately_.

No one had to ask what it meant, and Draco and Hermione were up and out the portrait before anyone could have gotten a syllable out anyways.

As Hermione trailed behind her boyfriend, running faster than she was sure Filch generally allowed, she silently prayed to Merlin and anyone else who was listening.

_Please let it be good news._

* * *

"Albus, what in blazes has been going on?" He had a splitting headache, he was dressed in garish hospital robes, and he simply could not remember anything except that he was ravenous.

Dumbledore, rather than answer a single question from the past half hour, chose to lean back in a waiting chair, pop a Bertie Botts Bean in, and exclaim in mock disgust that it was broccoli. Not an Albus favorite, apparently.

Still, Severus was getting more than just annoyed. He was demanding answers, and Albus would not even tell him_ why_ he wouldn't tell him. He just clammed up and stared with those damn eyes, as usual.

Then, he stood from his chair with a grin only half a second before his godson and his girlfriend swept into the room.

He was more concerned with the former, but decided it was thoughtful for the girl to come by as well. He just could not say Hermione. She would forever be Granger…unless his godson _Actually_ married the girl. _That_ would be a heart-attack-inducing day for sure. The shock alone would kill half of Hogwarts if they didn't already know.

"Severus!" Draco was not two steps in the door before he flung himself at his godfather, effectively knocking them both back to the uncomfortable hospital bed. "Are you alright? When did you wake up? Do you remember anything? It's great to see you awake!"

To say Draco was chatty was a bit of an understatement. In whatever timespan he had spent unconscious, his grandson had gone absolutely mad. He wasn't quite to Dumbledore's level of insanity, but he was certainly on his way.

"Draco." One word was still all it took, however, to silence him. "Thank you. Despite the fact that I have spent however long it has been in solitude, noise is not appreciated." The large, fixed-only-on-him eyes his godson was giving him were intensely creepy. His every move was watched carefully.

"Merlin, Draco, what has gotten into you?"

"He's been like this for about a week now," Granger piped up from the corner with Dumbledore. "It wasn't much at first, but I think he's been changing to keep himself from going mad while you were in a coma. Now that you're out, though, he can't just snap back. I think he's experiencing psychological and emotional overload." Of course, Granger had already over-analyzed every detail about Draco.

Although, grudgingly, he did admit it made sense. For years, whenever he was away doing something dangerous and Draco knew about it, Severus would have to deal with complaints from Lucius about his son having something wrong with him. Draco would close off with only one or two words spoken every five minutes. Lucius wanted a silent son, but not to the point where it was unnerving.

Apparently, Draco had been smart enough to know he would not get away with stonewalling the Potter clan, especially with his current choice in a girlfriend. He had, instead, chosen the opposite route, focusing on anything and everything except Severus.

And now that he was awake, Severus would be the recipient of all of Draco's attentions.

"Draco, I will not tolerate being obsessed over. I shall allow this for now, but in forty-eight hours time, you will be your usual self—a Slytherin—and not some over-enthused Hufflepuff." He saw Granger's jaw drop. Could she really be shocked that he would be so _cold_ to his godson so soon after waking? It was not to be helped. The only way to get Draco out of this…new attitude…was with blunt force from someone he was used to receiving such an attitude.

And Severus had never been one for cuddles and soft words.

"Yes, sir." He hadn't even needed the forty-eight hours. A few words in his godfather's authoritative tone and he suddenly realized how childish he'd been acting. How had no one else seen fit to stop him from making an idiot out of himself?

He would have to prank or mock many people this week to save face, though he had a feeling the time for saving face had long since passed.

"Now that you're back to normal, or your version of normal rather…" They both cracked a smile—or as close to one as they could get—and sat down like civilized people. "…maybe you can explain to me what has been going on?"

Hermione stayed in the corner while Dumbledore and Draco gave Severus the brief overview of events while he was out of commission. Voldemort hadn't made any more moves against Harry or Draco, his classes were fine, and there was a new _Slytherin Leader_—aka Nott—causing trouble in the dungeons and the halls.

Finally, when there were a few more minutes until lights out and, therefore, Hermione's patrol duty, she stood to leave.

"I'm glad to see you're awake, sir." Severus nodded in her direction with as much politeness as he could muster in his slightly irritated mood. She would still take a little getting used to—the girl was a Gryffindor. "I'll see you later, Draco." But when he saw how his godson smiled at the girl, so openly and completely—dare he say it?—in love, he decided maybe it wouldn't be as hard as he was making it out to be.

* * *

"So?"

"How is he?"

"Is he awake?"

"What happened?"

"Where's Draco?" She couldn't answer all of their questions, so she just gave the basic information.

"Draco's fine, Snape is fine. He's awake and Draco and Dumbledore are filling him in on everything he's missed."

"I hope they're filling him in about Nott," Ginny muttered. "He's getting way out of hand."

"Yeah, I hate to admit it, but even I may have underestimated just how much of a polite agitator Malfoy was," Ron commented. "Even he had the guts to start a fair fight. Nott just tries to corner each of us alone, not that he could manage a fight if he tried." There were identical nods around the circle. Any one of them alone could take on all three of the Slytherin goons, and that was including Luna during one of her dazed moments.

"Anyways, Draco probably isn't coming back tonight, so you'll have to ask him about it then. I think he's spending the night in the Hospital Wing with Snape." Without Draco to agitate, Harry and Ron found themselves the victims of homework/study night. Had Draco been present, they could have coerced him into distracting Hermione while the rest of them were escaping.

No one currently present would dare stay behind while everyone else escaped. Only Draco could calm that particular wrath, and that was because she didn't generally get too angry with him for distracting her anymore. It meant more alone time.

But now, they were stuck doing homework.

Heads buried in books, Harry and Ron were sitting next to their also-studying girlfriends, neither boy aware that Hermione was watching them with soft smiles. Complain though they may, they could not realize Hermione's love for these study sessions. Nearly every other student in the school had a group of friends that would get together and prepare for exams. Them with the rest of the group…it seemed normal. It was calm, relaxed, Dark Lord-free, and peaceful, and she couldn't have asked for more.

Well, except to have Draco present, but he was with Severus, who was alive and awake, so she could accept his absence for awhile.

It was normal, and though this group, comprised of three different grade levels, all four houses and all different personalities, was anything but normal, it felt as close to normal as any of them could get.

So, trying not to revel too much in the educational discomfort many of the group was feeling, Hermione settled in to work on History of Magic, hoping Draco and Severus were doing well.

* * *

"There is something you have neglected to mention, Draco." Severus' razor-edged comment stopped him in his tracks. He sounded incredibly serious. Did he remember what Draco had said while he was comatose? Was it about the curse?

"Yes, Severus?"

"Miss Granger." Draco raised an eyebrow.

"You already know we're dating, Severus. That can't possibly be what you mean, unless Madame Pomfrey's Memory Scan was wrong and you don't remember quite a bit." His godfather gave him a knowing smirk, and he was very afraid all of a sudden.

"I'm well aware of your public relationship, Draco, but is there something else? A four-letter word, perhaps, that you were told never to use by your blunt-head of a father?"

Oh. _Oh._

"I'm not so sure I feel comfortable with…"

"Discussing this with me?" His godfather scoffed, though it was in humor. "Then who else, Draco? Your father? Potter? Dumbledore? _Her?_ The worst that is going to happen is I mock you a bit, and from what I hear, your ego could use it." Draco almost would have been offended, but Severus winked at him and he knew it was still in jest.

"I'm not sure if I love her yet, Severus. I think I'm still trying to figure that one out for myself." It was as close to the truth as either of them would get for now. He really wasn't sure if he loved Hermione. All he knew was that when he was with her, he was happy, but he also knew that wasn't enough to justify it as love.

He was also aware that it would not be fair to fill her head with hopes of him loving her if he wasn't really sure. There could be no doubt in his mind when he said it for the first time, truly and deeply meaning it.

Whether or not Severus understood that was unclear as the man reached over to grab a book from his bedside table.

"Very well, Draco. When you are ready to discuss it, I shall be here. For now, I think you've been here quite long enough considering the time. We can speak after your classes tomorrow." His eyes widened; was Severus dismissing him? And so soon after waking up…

"Oh, do not give me that look. I am not dismissing you. I am simply recommending that you use your time in a more productive fashion—like visiting your girlfriend who is most likely currently stressing over you in your quarters." Hermione. Of course, the girl was probably wearing a hole in the floor pacing even though there was nothing to worry about.

"I shall see you tomorrow, Severus." And then, relatively out of character, Draco leaned in to give his godfather a hug before heading off to stop Hermione from going on a rampage.

* * *

It hadn't taken long for Hermione to start worrying.

Of course, initially, she had spent the evening happy for Draco, wondering how their reunion was going. That happiness hadn't exactly faded quickly, but it had begun to fade, and it hadn't taken long either.

At about midnight, the group had packed up to return to their respective dorms. After all, it wouldn't be appropriate for so many couples (despite Hermione's trust) to spend the evening in the same dorm room together. It also wouldn't be appropriate for Hermione, as Head Girl, to allow so many students out so long after curfew. She was already breaking the rules as it was, but it was a special night…

But even after making a cup of tea to calm her nerves, slipping into her most comfortable pair of sweatpants and a warm sweatshirt, and reading the most boring book in her collection (though it was hard to decide that a book was "boring"), she couldn't quell the anxiety that crept up inside. By two in the morning, she was truly anxious.

She was worried over nothing, she knew. She had been the one to tell their friends that he would probably be spending the night with his godfather and would not be back that evening. It was illogical for someone as logical as she was to be pacing, waiting for someone she was confident would not come.

But Hermione wasn't pacing because she was waiting for him to return. She simply wanted to know if they were alright. The past few weeks had been harder than usual on Draco. The way he suddenly snapped back into Malfoy-Mode™ was difficult to ignore, after all.

He had doted on her and their friends all week. Hermione had attempted to make him see how out-of-character he'd been, but he refused to see reason, and after awhile she relented. It became apparent he needed somewhere to focus his attentions.

But having him focused on anything except Severus gave her a little time to focus on him.

The way he threw didn't throw himself in headfirst the way Harry did. The way he kept his cool, which was a stark contrast to Ron. The way he so obviously respected his godfather, cared for her, appreciated their friends…

The way she couldn't seem to identify what his feelings on _love_ were. That four-letter-word she placed so much importance on. There were four people in the world she could say she loved to the point that she would give her life to Voldemort if it meant they would live forever.

Her parents.

Ron.

Harry.

She would sacrifice everything she knew for them. When she thought of Draco, though, she felt something different. More than different, she felt something stronger. Like she would give everything she knew, had, or wanted to make him smile. She felt like she would give everything she didn't know or have to hear him laugh. She would bend the rules of the universe to save him.

Hermione was a girl who understood love. She had been surrounded by it her whole life. Since before she could remember, she'd been taught that it was a gift, not to be judged or criticized or hidden. What she felt for Draco wasn't love.

He was the only one who could argue with her and get away with it. Draco could combat every one of her words with ones equally fierce and confident. They could be horribly engaged in an epic battle over the most pointless conversation topics, doubled over in laughter at the nonsensicalness the next.

He challenged her in a way no one else had her entire life. Hermione had been taught to respect her parents. Harry was too worried about losing a friend to argue with her. Ron was too careless with his words and managed to cross lines that he didn't mean to cross.

Draco knew what to say to get his way, but could never seem to do it. They were equals in a way no one else could match.

No, what she felt for Draco wasn't love, but there was no word to describe what it was, so she would settle for it.

Everything she was belonged to him, though he didn't know it. And she didn't know exactly how he felt about her, but she knew it wouldn't be fair to push him. Unrequited love would be excruciating, and though she hoped it wouldn't come to that, she would still love him.

And it was that love that prompted such worry from her, irrational as it was.

* * *

He muttered the password, carefully stepping inside the room in case Hermione really was sleeping. The room was still illuminated and he saw the outline of her bedroom door shining. A smile graced his features for an instant; she was needlessly depriving herself of sleep on his account—a problem he intended to remedy.

"Hermione." He knew she heard him. Standing in the middle of their Common Area, he waited as the door opened. Moments later, she threw himself into his arms. "I wasn't even gone that long!" Her reaction had amused him, but more than that, it surprised him.

Pansy had never asked after him when he was late. During his introductory meetings to the Death Eaters (he still shivered at that memory), she had never waited for him to ask if he was okay. For several hours, hours that must have been long and arduous for her, he had been making sure his godfather was still sane and alive. She was still awake at two in the morning, worried for him when he was in complete safety.

That's not to say Pansy was a horrible friend. She just wasn't the kind of girlfriend that waited up without being told. For Blaise, the kind of guy that enjoyed independence when he wanted it and a girl he could trust that trusted him, Pansy was perfect. For Draco, who had sadistic Lucius for a father and negligent Narcissa for a mother, to be worried about was a rather new concept.

He felt warm inside. Disgustingly, nauseatingly, wonderfully warm. His arms tightened around Hermione as silently vowed to never let her go.

"Why are you still up?" He whispered, brushing a piece of hair that had escaped her ponytail back from her face. "It's…early." She let a small smile slip at his joke and his heart tightened. He wanted to slap himself back to normal; one sickeningly heartfelt conversation with his godfather and he was suddenly sap-happy? It would not do, but he could not do anything else.

"I was worried," she admitted. "It was stupid; I thought you'd be spending the night in the Hospital Wing anyways, so I should have just gone to sleep, but I couldn't because I was worried and thinking about you and hoping you were okay and…" She was rambling. Draco couldn't help but give a large grin as his normally eloquent girlfriend dissolved, leaving a rambling teenage girl that couldn't seem to figure out what she wanted to say, much less how to say it.

"Hermione." Her name was all it took. Just as Severus had snapped him to attention in the Hospital Wing, he could command her attentions. "Thank you." He dropped a light kiss on her lips, trying to convey his gratitude. That he didn't want her to be worried, but that he wasn't disappointed that she was. It was meant to be short.

But she wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling him closer as if trying to verify that he really was there. They both knew there was no logical reason to be worried; he was safe (as was she) inside Hogwarts. His father couldn't get him here. Voldemort couldn't get him here. The only thing in these walls that could hurt him was her.

But she couldn't help it, and he understood. Nothing about the world they lived in was certain. People died every day in accidents, murders, and of natural causes. Voldemort only added to the murder aspect, but every day they survived numerous dangers. What mattered was, for the moment, they were together and taking advantage of that fact.

He cupped her face with both hands, stroking her cheeks, but he pulled back when he realized they were dampening. Single tracks were forming and he wiped them away with the pad of his thumb, pressing a kiss lightly to her forehead. He heard a laugh bubble from her, partially choked by a sob.

"I'm such a mess," she mumbled, pulling away slightly to meet his eyes. He mourned even the smallest loss of contact, but pressed another kiss to her cheek.

"Why would you think that?"

"I'm crying at two thirty in the morning in my sweats. I'm not exactly beautiful," she commented, obviously irritated that she was forced to be in front of him in such a _horrible _state. He wasn't looking at her outfit, though.

He was looking at her eyes, glossy and slightly ringed in red from recently shed tears. They were such a vibrant brown that he almost forgot what he was about to say. People claim the eyes are windows to the soul, or some nonsense like that. Draco had no interest in other people's moronic sayings, though.

What he knew was his girlfriend looked beautiful regardless of what she wore because of her eyes. Everything about her—the intelligence, the wit, the passion—was locked in them, and everything that made her beautiful—inside and out—was expressed in them.

And despite what he'd said to Severus, he knew. As inept and cheesy and clumsy of him as it was, he couldn't resist it.

"You're beautiful," he whispered, "and I love you." And those eyes, as impossible as it seemed, got even more beautiful when she comprehended his words. They widened as they connected to his and she was, for quite possibly the first time since he'd truly gotten to know her, speechless.

So he took advantage of her shock and placed another kiss to her open lips, pulling the elastic from her hair and smiling as her wavy hair fell loose. Her arms had gone limp around him, but they tightened rather quickly when he pushed is fingers through her hair, drawing her as close as he could.

He never wanted to let o. He drew back for only a moment to stare at her once more, though she seemed speechless still.

"I love you, Hermione," he whispered, "and I want the whole world to know it, Voldemort be damned. You're amazing, and you saved me."

"Draco," she breathed, and his heart almost stopped. "I love you, too." Forget almost…he was fairly certain it really did stop at that point. He didn't think he could have been happier unless Voldemort himself suddenly dropped dead.

And then he kissed her again and was proven wrong.

* * *

When Hermione woke up the next morning, she had the feeling she was being watched. It didn't take a genius to figure out why.

She was curled against Draco on the couch, which was where they'd both decided to sleep since their respective bedrooms were too far away. Hermione smiled, knowing she could spend the night on the couch with Draco cuddling.

The same Draco that was now watching her.

She turned her head to meet his eyes and was rewarded with a quick peck to her lips.

"Why are you watching me sleep?" Her voice cracked, a result of her still being not-fully-awake.

"It's almost ten. We should get moving."

"What?" She didn't notice him trying to restrain his laughter. Hermione Granger did _not_ sleep in. It simply was not done.

But she had been up until three in the morning having a very serious discussion with her boyfriend.

Ten was pushing it just a little far, though. Luckily it was a Sunday, so there were no classes, but she had to wonder if their friends were looking for them.

"Why did you let me sleep so late?" Clearly, he had been up for awhile. The sleep had been gone from his eyes for some time, so he had simply been watching her sleep. She ignored the creepiness in favor of demanding answers.

"Because you were tired." It was said with such simplicity that she was torn between kissing him and smacking him. "And you're pretty when you sleep." It was a manipulative statement, and she was incredibly aware of the hidden reason for his statement. On the one hand, he meant it. On the other, it saved him from getting smacked. It was well worth it.

A light knock was heard followed by, "You two better be decent!" The door immediately swung open to admit eight more teens. Hermione couldn't decide if she was mortified more by the fact that they were caught cuddling on the couch or that she was in her pajamas in front of four guys that should _not_ have seen her in her pajamas.

Ginny was trying not to laugh.

Harry was eyeing Draco, apparently trying to decide if anything **"Not Kosher"** was going on.

Ron looked incredibly uncomfortable, his face as red as his hair.

Luna was looking very odd, looking around the room (most likely for some sort of Myazaspurt or whatnot).

Pansy was giving Draco her trademark look; a combination between the Motherly "I Know What You Did" Look and the Best Friend "I Just Caught You Doing Something BlackMailable" Look™.

Blaise was giving him a thumbs-up.

Cedric and Cho really seemed to have no input on the matter.

And while Hermione was fighting off mortification, standing to get to her room and change as quickly as she could, she heard Draco languidly get off the couch and greet their friends.

"How's it going, guys?" Men.

* * *

He couldn't resist a little amusement when Hermione nearly apparated into her room. Apparently, girls didn't like being seen in pajamas by their friends. Or maybe it had something to do with what she'd said earlier that morning; she didn't enjoy looking like a mess. He disagreed, but what would his words mean? Women.

So he decided to entertain their guests while she fixed herself up.

"How's it going, guys?" He ignored Pansy and Blaise, who were doing their usual Best Friend Act. To be honest, he was far more concerned with Harry and Ron. Getting on their good side had been hard enough, but staying on it? Being caught on the couch with their best (and only) girl-friend was probably not the way to go.

But Harry sent him a smile and Ron's blush had calmed enough that he realized he was off the hook. Nothing had happened, they understood, and they had girlfriends, too. It wasn't like he was taking advantage of her as they walked in.

Ginny, however, seemed to find the whole situation entertaining as hell.

"We should be asking you that, mate." Ron had gotten rid of his blush and decided to be the first to broach the topic that had been their reason for coming. "How's Sn—Severus?" Draco smiled in appreciation at the redhead's attempt to get past years of animosity.

"He's fine; he'll be back to his snarky, teaching self in no time." He knew Harry and Ron probably didn't want to hear those words exactly, but he couldn't resist a little prodding. They had, after all, interrupted his perfect morning. Considering it had been to check on him, he couldn't be too aggravated, he figured. "Thanks for asking, though."

For the second time in two days, he became very aware of how stupid he'd acted since Severus fell into his coma. The eight people in front of him were wary, unsure of his current state. Perhaps they thought they were next on his list of obsession. Of course, he would never fret over them like he would Hermione, but they had been careful not to injure themselves in his presence as of late.

So he smiled and tried to put their unease to rest. He was back, and though he would most likely have to do some serious pranking to get his image back as well, he was done being…Hufflepuffish (no offense meant to Cedric, of course).

Hermione emerged from her room a short time later in a pair of jeans and a different sweatshirt.

"Anyone up for a walk around the grounds? I need some fresh air." Draco smiled at her as she walked up to the group, weaving her fingers through his in a simple, seemingly innocuous gesture. To him, it meant everything, though.

Perhaps he wasn't fully back yet…he was, after all, still acting garishly mushy and lovey-dovey.

"Exercise?" Of course, Ron was the first to complain.

"It does keep the Wrackspurts away," Luna commented. "They only go after sedentary targets." As the rest of the group commented, all eventually consenting to a trip around the grounds, Draco leaned in to whisper in her ear.

"We've got all sorts of kinds there, don't we?" Catching on, she nodded.

"It takes all different shades."

"All colors." And then she smiled and he relaxed as they followed the rest of the group, one less line accompanying them on their walk.

* * *

**A/N: **_Vampirealchemist: Well that has certainly taken a long time._

_Severus:_ Is anybody going to mention the fact that I woke up?

_Draco:_ Or that I'm still cursed?

_Hermione:_ Or that Draco and I had a very touching moment?

_Harry:_ Or that I'm barely in this chapter?

_Everyone:_ **Silence**

_Vampirealchemist: Alright then…minions, what do we say?_

_Severus:_** Please Review **(& say how happy you are that I, Severus *The Amazing* Snape, woke up)

_Draco:_ **Please Review** (& say how sad you are that I, Draco *Kick-Ass* Malfoy, am still cursed)

_Hermione:_ **Please Review** (& say how excited you are that Draco and I, Hermione *Knows All* Granger, said "I love you" to each other!)

_Harry:_ **Please Review** (& say how angry you are that I, Harry *Awesomesauce* Potter, was not the star of this chapter!)

_Vampirealchemist_: You know, I think I'll be happy if you just review without flaming me for my writing or how long it's taken…so….**Please Review.**

**Next Chapter:**_ You Can Own the Earth..._


	16. You Can Own The Earth And Still

**A/N:** This is it. The last chapter. There will be no sequel (do you realize how long this one took?) or epilogue, and I would like to thank everyone that has stuck with me through all of this. Please comment/review, and enjoy the finale of my first full-length fanfiction!

* * *

_You Can Own the Earth and Still All You'll Own is Earth Until You Can Paint With All the Colors of the Wind_

* * *

"I can't believe we have to start studying for OWLs now!" Ron rested his head on the table, bemoaning the large stack of review work their teachers had assigned. Hermione whipped her head to look at him, thoroughly appalled.

"You mean to tell me," she exclaimed, "you've been doing no review of any sort?" He at least had the common sense to look ashamed, even though he figured she should have known him well enough.

But then Draco lightly touched her hand and she relaxed. Ron looked amazed at his good luck.

"I'm still going to chain you to a chair and force you to work."

"Kinky." Ginny seemed oblivious to the looks the rest of the table sent her. After a few moments of silence, she looked up, seemingly annoyed. "What? I grew up with six brothers; you don't think I know about things like that?"

Ron sent an uncomfortable glance to Harry, who was blushing and staring at his plate of food, while the rest of the table began laughing.

Most of their Professors had given them homework so that they could begin preparing (more intensely, at least) for their OWLs. Hermione, of course, had been reviewing every night since the beginning of the year. It had been the cause of more than a few stressful breakdowns when she suddenly came upon something she couldn't remember that she thought would be incredibly important. Then again, she thought everything she learned was important.

She knew Draco had "studied" as well, glancing over his books from their first four years every now and then. They still held DADA meetings, though the group was well-versed in Defense, but Hermione was far from actually worrying about her own exam grades. She was stressed, but not about her own preparation.

She worried for Harry and Ron, whom she had worried after for years of school. They wanted to be Aurors, but they didn't seem to realize how important these tests were. Harry, at least, had an excuse—he was far too worried about Voldemort.

"Relax, Hermione," Draco muttered into her ear, holding her hand lightly. "There's still time to beat him with a yardstick." She chuckled and nodded, mentally noting the fact that she had to make their studying timetables soon.

Old habits die hard.

* * *

It was hard to reign in his laughter when he realized that Hermione had tortured Ron and Harry almost as much as he had for four years. After all, fighting with Draco was probably a nice break from Hermione's "nagging."

Considering he was a fine example of a student himself (second in class to Hermione of course), he didn't have to worry too much about her badgering him. So while she bothered the WonderTwins™-he was still having problems not making fun of them every now and then just for their Gryffindor-ish qualities—he contemplated his predicament.

Only two lines left.

_You can own the Earth and still, all you'll own is Earth…_

But he didn't own anything. His father had seen to that.

Three days ago, he had received a piece of mail from the eagle his parents had taken from him when they heard about his relationship with Hermione. For a strange moment, he almost thought they were returning his magnificent bird to him. It was a false hope, he realized, when he noticed the small red envelope dangling from Skylark's talons.

Suffice to say, his parents were displeased. Not only had he refused the Dark Lord, but he had _shamed_ his family by associating with a Mudblood and blood traitors. The Howler had gone on to comment on his past failures, recounting in detail the times Draco had displeased his father at dinner parties to his taste in girlfriends. The relatively cordial letter went on to inform him that he was no longer a Malfoy.

Hermione had put a hand around his shoulders, which were shaking uncontrollably. Severus had stood from his place at the Head Table, though no one noticed and he sat down almost immediately to avoid suspicion. The Great Hall was silent as students looked on to see what the disowned heir would do. Draco was certain Nott had looked on in smug satisfaction…a look that faded moments later.

He had not been shaking in anger or sadness but in insuppressible laughter. Free. For some time, he had been worried his parents would find some way to get him back, claiming parental rights over him. Now, it was they who had made the blunder.

If he were to guess, Lucius had made the decision that would best restore their family image in the eye of the Pureblood Public, ignorant of the fact that Voldemort would not be pleased. As his parents, Lucius or Narcissa could have retrieved him from Hogwarts at any time.

Now, despite the fact that he had yet to celebrate his seventeenth birthday, he was free from his parents' decision. Without his consent, Draco could not again become a Malfoy—not that that was an issue, of course.

The other students could not fathom his entertainment at being disowned from one of the richest and most powerful families. He continued to laugh as Hermione gave him a hug; she of all people knew what it meant for him to be disowned from Lucius and Narcissa.

And to the disapproval of a large amount of teachers present, he had promptly kissed her on the lips in front of the entire student body. It was, arguably, one of the best days of his life.

But all was not perfect in Draco's world…obviously.

Severus had yet to be called back to his "Master's" side, but Draco knew it was only a matter of time, and he prayed the Dark Lord would not discover his godfather's true allegiance. It was all he could do.

That, and watch Hermione torment her two "best friends" into studying. Luna and Ginny seemed to have no interest in helping their respective boyfriends.

* * *

"Albus."

"Severus." Those were the only two words spoken in the entire conversation he and the Headmaster had had. They were spoken over thirty minutes prior, and they were currently staring at one another from across the desk. It was not as though either of them had a problem with silence.

But they had to discuss the matter at hand, and neither of them had any idea how to begin. Severus brought up the least of their three issues.

"What are we going to do about Draco?"

"Mister Malfoy is free from his father, and that is a tremendous gain on our part," Albus conceded. "Lucius cannot waltz in and take his son as he could before, though it is a wonder he did not think of it before." Severus snorted.

"Lucius has become more concerned with his personal image than his service to the Dark Lord." He ignored Albus' look at his refusal to use his _Master's_ name. "He will most likely be severely reprimanded at the next meeting." He shivered when he remembered what happened the last time Lucius had failed.

"Good." Severus raised an eyebrow, waiting for an explanation.

"Severus, you are clearly higher up in Voldemort's ranks than the others. Should Lucius…fall from grace, shall we say?...then you would be the first to rise to his place." And then Severus understood.

"You believe I could take Lucius' place? You know what that would entail."

"As do you." They shared a mutual look of understanding before Severus nodded and they continued to the second topic of import.

"Dolores is close to discovering Dumbledore's Army," the Headmaster commented, sipping his tea. Severus restrained himself at the obnoxious twinkle in the man's eyes; did he want to be thrown off the grounds?

"Indeed."

"Make sure they continue meeting…regardless of what happens." Severus raised an eyebrow in an uncharacteristic show of surprise.

"Sir?"

"That's all you need to know." Here, the Potions' Master widened his eyes in shock. Albus knew something pertinent that he was boldly informing Severus he would _not_ share. Usually, he concealed that he knew something in addition to actually concealing the knowledge.

"Albus, does it strike you as odd that I'm about to become the right-hand man for your enemy when I'm already technically yours?"

"It strikes me as advantageous," the Headmaster countered. And suddenly, he knew that was the end of that topic as well. The speed with which they moved through conversation astounded Severus at times.

"Potter's dreams."

"He has not told you of them?"

"I help him in Occlumency and he seems to gain ground adequately," Severus acquiesced, not happy about complimenting the child, even out of earshot. "Unfortunately, he always manages to succeed in blocking me before I get into his dreams." He scowled; the boy managed to accomplish something when it was detrimental to their plans.

"A shame."

"And you cannot simply ask him because?"

"Because, dear boy," Severus scowled at the name, "he will lie. Even to me, if he thinks his problems will cause trouble, Harry will lie to me."

"You know what he's after, Albus."

"But I do not know how he plans to get Harry there. He will not go himself."

"So we wait."

"So we wait. Lemon drop?"

* * *

They didn't have to wait very long.

A week later, the students were on lockdown in the Great Hall with a relatively calm Headmaster staring down at his panicking students.

"Students, our castle has once again come under attack!" It was, upon reflection, a record. Voldemort did not often attack twice in one year, and he tended to wait until near the end of term when he did. For goodness sake, they had not even taken their OWLs yet! Hermione did not want to think what this might mean for them if Dumbledore canceled exams, though it was not her primary concern at the moment.

"So is he after Draco or me this time?" Their small group of ten had congregated in a corner near the back, away from the frantic masses. Hermione was proud to note that, despite the trouble, they were remaining calm and level-headed.

She cast a sidelong look at Harry, who actually seemed to be paying attention instead of trying to find a way to escape and be a hero.

"It doesn't matter," Draco muttered. "What matters is he'll take down everyone in his way. As long as it's just Death Eaters, we can take them."

"If _he_ shows up," Hermione added, "we'll know his target is Harry, but he wouldn't be so bold as to attack Hogwarts yet."

"So we stick together," Ginny concluded, "and show the Ministry and the Death Eaters what a small group of ragtag learners can really do."

They used the teacher's entrance behind the High Table. Hermione was fairly certain she saw Dumbledore's eyes flicker towards them in approval, and he made sure all eyes in the room were on him, leaving the ten of them free to leave without speculation. It wasn't until they were in the corridor that they turned back to each other in realization.

"We don't have a plan," Blaise commented, though he didn't seem worried. Hermione realized their reputation had preceded them. The **Golden Trio** was known for getting into and out of sticky situations, presumably worse than this. But they didn't know what this was, or what they were after.

The door they had just exited opened and shut quickly, revealing a Headmaster dressed in purple robes with silver and gold stars.

"It is not a large group, easily handled by the teachers were things as they once were." Dumbledore looked troubled. "I fear word has reached Voldemort about our new Ministry-placed restrictions."

"Restrictions?"

"Your teachers are bound by certain oaths," he said quickly. "Some to me, some to the school itself, and others to the Ministry. It seems I should have interfered in the process earlier, but I did not think Tom would be so bold as to attack twice in the same year. A mistake on my part."

"Sir…"

"Use the path." These words were spoken to Harry, though the others understood. Hermione and Draco knew, from experience, that with the threat of being late hanging over their heads, they could make it to the Transfiguration rooms on the first floor to the path in under a minute.

With death as a motivator, they could surely make it from the Great Hall in thirty seconds, assuming they didn't have to duck and cover to avoid the Death Eaters.

"I don't understand how they got in," Cho whispered.

"Again, a Ministry mistake." Dumbledore, understandably was not pleased. "I would be happy to explain after, but let it be enough that Voldemort's infiltration of the Ministry and the Ministry's infiltration of the school have aided the Dark Lord in many ways that will be remedied when all this is over. Now go!" It wasn't until they were already on their way that Hermione realized the full implication of what the Headmaster was saying.

The Ministry did not believe Voldemort had returned yet. His physical absence had led them to tell the Wizarding World that the Death Eaters were simply gaining confidence, and Death Eaters—the Ministry believed—they could handle just fine. There was, therefore, no need for Dumbledore and his supporters to have the power to fight while within Hogwarts.

The DA was the only group related to the Phoenix with the ability to help. Close together, they moved around the perimeter of the Entrance Hall. There was hardly anyone—a small pack of fifteen entry-level Death Eaters, completely expendable—bickering over how to break into the Headmaster-enforced Great Hall.

It was almost too easy as the bolted from their position behind an hourglass to the exit. Hermione was reminded of the saying "If it's too easy, it probably is." It was only enforced when, one by one, their group was stunned…except for Harry and Draco.

Her eyes managed to catch every person in their group except them, and she realized they had been the tail end of their group, making sure no attacks were made from the rear. They was still inside, safe.

* * *

It had never occurred to him, during DA meetings, to mention some of the things he had learned over the years with his father. The things he had learned had been learned through life-lessons, and there were far too many to count and recount to a group of students.

One of these lessons had been to watch when going around corners.

He should have heard rustling grass the moment Ron's feet hit the ground outside, but he didn't. Even if the redhead had managed to hide the noise, the other pairs of feet couldn't have done the same, so he held back for a moment. Hermione had been too far ahead to grab, and his thoughts had gone straight to her. Now he was left to wonder how he and Harry were going to get their friends back while remaining alive.

"Draco, we know you're there! You and Potter get out here!" He cursed when he heard Runcorn's voice. The man was a riser in the ranks, he knew, trying to do whatever it took to get further into Voldemort's good graces (or whatever passed for them.) Unfortunately, he was not an opponent Draco could go up against alone. Even with Harry on his side, it would not turn out well

As much as every Potter-like nerve in his body wanted to jump out and attack Runcorn (and whoever else was out there), cursing him into a thousand pieces, he knew it would only serve to get himself killed or taken to the Dark Lord. He glanced sidelong at the Boy-Who-Lived to make sure the brunette would not plan on making a similar, bold move.

"Potter." The word was whispered sharply to gain only his attention, and he made a motion towards the dungeons, only yards to their right. Identical to popular belief, Slytherins were interested in self-preservation. Severus had showed him the escape route concealed by the portrait between the Commons Portrait and Severus' private rooms on his first day at Hogwarts.

Draco was the only one who knew his godfather's rooms were there, but it was not the portrait he was concerned with. As they skirted the edge once more, Draco still amazed that Voldemort could recruit such idiots to his cause, Draco pulled Harry along, stopping them in front of the ornately framed portrait of a black serpent surrounded by smaller, emerald colored snakes.

"We are under attack; help us to survive." The portrait swung upon, and he shoved Harry into the cold, dark room.

He had never been in the room before. He doubted it had even been opened since the last time it was used over 100 years prior. It was a small, ten by ten cubicle built of stone that looked shockingly similar to the Potions' Storage. On the floor was a square wooden trapdoor.

"Time to get out, Potter." He pulled, wincing at the loud creak and rotting wood. Had no one bothered to enchant this room?

"Where does it go?"

"It's not on your brilliant map?" Harry shook his head.

"Only places my dad and his friends knew about can be on the map; I think this place is a pretty well-kept secret." Draco nodded. "I guess we'll find out."

"Let's hope it lets out somewhere close to the forest," the Slytherin muttered. He paused when Harry grabbed his shoulder tightly, spinning him.

"We have to get them down to the path," Harry said with such force, Draco would have been a fool to argue, but he did anyways.

"So they can corner us in the Dark Forest?"

"Remember when we marked you guys last month?" Draco did remember; he still rubbed his neck absentmindedly every now and then, remembering the feeling of it etching itself into his skin. It hadn't hurt, but it wasn't an altogether pleasing experience. "They're not marked. Haven't you ever wanted to get a firsthand experience of our precautions?"

"I have been curious," he admitted.

"Then we need to get to the forest and make sure they find us."

* * *

Hermione didn't like the Death Eater in charge of levitating them around the grounds. She supposed she should be glad that he had been ordered not to kill any of them, but he still made her uncomfortable. Of course, there was the obvious reason—he was a Death Eater. But his Mobliocorpus Charm was so horrendous, she couldn't help but dislike him further.

Petty thoughts like that kept her from wondering (and having a heart attack) how Draco and Harry were faring.

It had only been ten minutes, but it felt like an hour by the time Runcorn and his group did anything. She had, of course, picked up snippets of conversations and found out that, once again, they were after Draco. It baffled her that one defected Junior Death Eater could be worth so much to Voldemort.

"Don't worry, sweetheart," Runcorn spat at her, making her cringe inwardly. "We'll catch your boyfriend. And the Boy-Who-Lived." She only glared; if she could move any of her muscles, she would have spit at him. "Be careful, Mudblood, or we'll have to take care of you when we're done with them."

She noticed that Ginny and Ron were near her, but the rest of the group had gotten separated. Runcorn and one other Death Eater were overseeing the three of them. Being the logical thinker that she was, Hermione quickly figured out what their plan was.

_We're bait._

Luckily for them, Runcorn's plan didn't go exactly as planned.

* * *

"I'm not going to bring up the fact that Slytherin built an escape route that no one else knows about," Harry muttered, ignoring cobwebs as they moved along. They were fairly sure no one else could get in, but they weren't going to be any less careful. Draco's _Lumos_ guided them through the abandoned passage.

"I'm sure the other three Head's had their secrets as well," Draco snapped. He knew Harry was probably just trying to make conversation so that they both wouldn't focus on how hard their hearts were pounding. Unfortunately for the Gryffindor, Draco former-Malfoy didn't like idle chatter, and talking only made him worry more about Hermione and the others.

Harry, for his part, seemed to have more tact that Ron and remained silent for a few minutes after that. It seemed like they had been underground for hours—Harry was trying not to focus on the last time he'd been below the school—but they knew it had only been a few minutes.

"Do you know where this lets out?"

"The edge of the Forbidden Forest and the Lake." It would be a short stint to the path, but they had to get Runcorn and the others down there somehow. Not five minutes after Draco's response, the light stopped and they came upon a solid wall. "Here it is."

But the hatch was locked. They took turns, eventually trying together, but neither of them could push the circular slab of wood out of the ground. There was no handle, no place for a key, and after a few moments, Draco gave up.

*_Bombarda!*_ The wood split apart, splintering through the air. As chips and dirt rained down on them through the hole, Draco realized the same password to get in on the other end may have worked here, but they simply did not have time, and his spell had sufficed.

"Well, that accomplishes two of our goals," Harry muttered, providing his knee as a stepping stool. Before he could ask what Harry meant, Draco heard shouts of _"This Way"_ and _"I heard something"_ nearing them.

"Potter…" After escaping the tunnel, the pair had made a beeline for the trees, ducking streams of red and green lights until they were deep within the Forest. "Potter, just how effective are these precautions?" The group had never explained how any of their magic worked; all they knew was that it was necessary they all have tattoos.

"We don't exactly have a back-up plan, Draco," the Boy-Who-Lived replied, not truly giving an answer as he shoved Draco an extra two steps onto the partially paved path. "Just trust that Hermione and Dumbledore handled everything."

"Like you did?" Harry shot him a smirk that could have matched his. "Right. I guess I'm about to find out." In front of them, about ten yards down the way, two Death Eaters were advancing. Draco turned when he heard screams from behind him, but no one was there.

But then Harry pointed up and he saw a dark-cloaked figure suspended from a tree.

The advancing figures were struck hard from the side just as Draco looked back to them, letting his raised wand fall to the side. Like an imitation of the Whomping Willow, one of the tall trees had just moved its branch in a deliberate motion.

The Death Eaters were knocked unconscious.

"Incarcerous." Harry systematically pointed his wand at each of the incapacitated Voldemort-followers, binding them and summoning their wands, snapping all three in half. Six pieces of dead, fragmented wood fell to the ground.

"Nicely done, Potter." The boy shrugged, turning to look for other attackers. Draco took the other side, watching where Harry could not.

"After five years, I've finally picked up something here," the Gryffindor joked. "Duck!" Following instructions, he saw a jet of blue light flash overhead only half a second after he fell to the gravel below. Harry was already back on his feet. "Incarcerous!"

For a moment, he had to admire the tenacity with which Harry attacked. He and Harry were clearly unmatched in battle skill, and Draco realized he was glad he had never gone toe-to-toe with the boy for real. A fake duel was one thing; Harry would have decimated him in a true duel.

One by one, Death Eaters came up the path. The group had picked the location well; using the trail was the only way to get into the Forest at that particular point, the thicket of trees far too dense to make any attempt at entering. Therefore, when anyone in the group made an attempt to get to the pair, they had to go on the path first.

Without the tattoo, they were just playthings for the "Path Protectors", whom Draco got to see in action.

Essentially, the protection came from the trees. If the enemy was more than they could handle, the trees alerted the centaurs, but a group of eight useless new recruits were easily handled by the aged trees. It was as though the land of Hogwarts had transformed into something other than earth and vegetation to protect them…all of them.

"I almost feel insulted," Draco commented, stepping out from behind a tree. "Why would he send such useless Death Eaters to capture either of us? They were all easily defeated by a group of trees."

"We should count ourselves lucky, though," Harry commented, standing to rub the dirt from his trouser knees. "Any more experience and they would have been smart enough to stray from the path."

"Like me?" From the thicket, Runcorn had cut through the trees, completely avoiding the path. Using his wand, he commanded their group, still floating, into the area between them.

"Draco, you surrender to me, and—for now—we leave them alone." Everything about Runcorn, from his perfectly done hair to his freshly polished shoes screamed politician. Draco didn't trust politicians—especially considering Fudge was still in charge of the lot of them. He stood his ground, shifting his eyes to the eight floaters, making eye contact with Hermione.

"Very well; then I take you and Mr. Potter, killing the rest of them regardless." Runcorn had just raised his wand when a figure dressed in purple appeared from nowhere.

"I don't believe I invited you to this party," Dumbledore joked, touching his wand to Runcorn's skull and watching in silence as the tall man crumpled to the ground. He did the same to Runcorn that Harry had to anyone else that interfered.

"I must say, I am very pleased with the outcome of this path," Dumbledore commented, eyes twinkling. "Now, if you children don't mind—" Here, he chose to unbind the eight floaters… "—Harry, Hermione, Ron, Draco, please meet me in my office. Harry will get you in. I will take care of the Death Eaters you have secured."

"Sir," Harry spoke up before turning to follow the others. "What happened to the other Death Eaters?"

"After seeking an immediate audience with Dolores, I convinced her to rescind the Ministry edict for the afternoon," Dumbledore responded. "I am not to be gone with yet." Draco watched the richly dressed Headmaster stroll through the forest as thgouh it were just another day.

"Does it seem odd to you that Dumbledore could not find a loophole?"

"He didn't want to fight," Harry answered, urging him to catch up with the rest of the group. "He wanted to see how we would h andle ourselves, and we passed. Now let's go."

Draco was shocked, but no overly so…it would be just like the Headmaster to be the most cunning of them all.

* * *

"I suppose you children would like an explanation," Dumbledore inquired as he entered his own office. The password had been Gwormmy Pops.

"There is a prophecy," Dumbledore stated when the four of them were seated. "I could play the whole thing from my Pensieve, but it would be far more time efficient for me to simply tell you. Put simply, Harry is the blade and Draco is the hilt in our weapon to kill Voldemort."

"Excuse me?" Draco ignored Hermione's look of disapproval.

"The prophecy states that Voldemort would pick his own enemy—the child of a couple that had thrice defied him. He picked Harry." To their amazement, the Headmaster continued to sip tea calmly as he spoke. "Of Harry and Voldemort, only one can live; Harry is the blade that must kill Voldemort if we are to win."

"And the hilt?"

"Draco has been trained from birth in the ways of the Death Eaters, yet rejected all he knew for love—for the Light. Harry," the brunette met the Headmaster's twinkling blue eyes, "you still have much to learn. Draco is meant to teach you."

"By the prophecy?" Draco still did not believe the nonsense.

"_And he who shall help the Chosen One shall be born to those that have shown their faith to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named on countless occasions. He shall see the Light, against all odds, and shall know that which the Chosen One knows not."_ Draco could not help the violent shiver that encompassed his body; for the man to have memorized was momentarily off-putting and creepy.

"Sir?" Hermione timidly raised her hand but lowered it quickly, realizing the absurdity of the action.

"The prophecy does not say who will win, Miss Granger. It only tells us the methods by which we can hope to win." He looked at his teacup gravely, displaying a momentary show of weakness, hiding it quickly. "I believe you children should get to bed, shouldn't you?" They nodded, all rising to leave at the same time.

"Mister M…Draco?" He smiled when he realized even Dumbledore was still confused by his new lack of name. "Congratulations on relieving yourself of that awful curse. I would endeavor not to irritate our young Miss Granger again."

_Did the man know everything?_

But, Draco was pleased to note, the Headmaster was right; the song was gone.

* * *

"So…Ron…dinner?" Once they had all emerged from the bottom of the stairs leading to the Headmaster's office, Harry had pulled Ron aside. The redhead was confused, but a not-so-subtle glance that everyone could tell was directed at Hermione and Draco indicated his true meaning. Such tact.

"Right, mate. Let's go!" And then they were alone. The silence did not last long.

"Draco!" It was whispered with such intensity that she might've screamed it. Her arms around his neck stopped him from imitating her, but he wrapped his around her waist to draw her close as well.

"Hermione." It was murmured into her neck, barely audible. He pulled back to tip her head back and planted a kiss on her lips. They remained locked together for several long minutes before Hermione pulled back with a gasp.

"Wait…Dumbledore said the curse is gone?" Draco nodded, giving her the biggest grin he could muster whilst covered in grime and dirt and other marks of battle. Or, rather, running underneath the school in yet more catacombs built by Salazar Slytherin.

His girlfriend didn't seem to mind the thick layer of gross-ness covering him, though. She launched herself back into his arms with her own kiss, surprising him with the intensity.

"I love you, Hermione."

"I love you, too, Draco." And spinning her around, kissing her after nearly losing a battle with a ragtag band of Death Eaters, he reached a level of happiness he previously thought he could never reach.

And he had a horrible spell to thank.

* * *

So Voldemort was still out there somewhere. Slytherin and Gryffindor still hated one another (for the most part). He still had no parents…but he had a family.

And he was with Hermione with no traces of that damn song in his head anymore. He was surrounded by people he could trust and he was on the right side.

And one day, he would help Harry show Voldemort there was more to the world than black and white, good and evil, and power.

There was love.

* * *

**A/N:**_Vampirealchemist:_ A horrible, cheesy ending, I know, but I can't believe it's….done.

_Draco:_ There, there…don't cry.

_Hermione:_ It certainly was a journey.

_Harry:_ I really didn't do much.

_Ginny:_ I still love you, dear.

_Ron:_ Ugh, not in front of me!

_Luna:_ Oh, hush, Ron, dear. Dear reader, now that the story has ended, please give your most cherished opinion and _**Please Review!**_

THANKS FOR STICKING WITH ME!


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